


Don't Stand So Close

by PlayingChello



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Child Abuse, Domestic Violence, Fist Fights, M/M, Masturbation, Sexual Abuse, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-05-04 18:25:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 50,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5344067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlayingChello/pseuds/PlayingChello
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dante teaches World History to seniors that don't give a shit because neither does he. So why does one student grab his attention so fully?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Impressions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eeeeeeeeeerenjaegar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeeeeeeeeerenjaegar/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First week of school is usually pretty simple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***NaNoWriMo 2015 Winner***
> 
> Ok, I want to preface this by saying this work is a high school teacher/student relationship. I, under no circumstances, condone this. I wrote it, it's fiction, but it is by no means a guide to how you should live your life. Most of what happens in this fic is pretty fucking illegal. So just, take it with a grain of salt.
> 
> THAT SAID, thanks for reading, I had a lot of fun writing this and it has been quite the endeavour.
> 
> Anyway, thanks a million to Harley for giving me the idea, helping me out with writing, and reading this as I wrote it.

“Dante!” Trish calls, waving a hand to him from the other side of the teachers’ lounge. Always best to hide in there for the start of the year; too many students running around having reunions and what not. Dante doesn’t need to find himself trapped out there.

He makes a beeline for his friend, his only real friend at this school. The other teachers don’t like him much, he’s too reckless, too wild, too uncontained. Most of them probably want him fired, but his attendance records and passing rates keep that from happening.

“Yo, Trish,” he greets upon making it to her. The other teachers around them don’t even hide that they are eavesdropping in on their conversation. Though, unlike Dante, everyone likes Trish. She’s got the kind of personality that attracts people to her, teachers and students alike. They’re probably just looking for some gossip or some inkling of a rumour to start to try and get Dante fired. Again.

“Are you ready for your first day? Do you have your lesson plans ready for the week?” Trish looks so excited and absolutely stunning. Her long blonde hair is brushed back out of her face, but hangs loose down her back. For the first day, she’s chosen a tasteful pencil skirt and a white blouse tucked in and unbuttoned in the front just far enough that it’s questionable whether it’s school appropriate. But that’s her style and the school has never been able to assuage her.

Dante picks up a muffin from the nearby plate of them and takes a bite as he shrugs, “Nah, just gonna wing it. Always worked for me before.”

Trish sighs and shakes her head, “Of course. It’s amazing you still have a job.”

Dante can see the way her eyes sparkle like she wants to say something, so he sighs and asks, “What about you?”

The way her face lights up tells him he was right. This is why Trish is a teacher, she has such passion for it, such joy. She loves her students and takes care of them as if they were her own children. “I’ve created a book list and I plan on letting the students choose what books they want to read this year. Have them read in small groups so I can facilitate discussion, and in class I’ve got plans to go over general themes common in literature and how to pick out the important bits.”

“I never understood how you could get so much meaning out of a book. You know the author probably wasn’t thinking about the deep meaning of the train passing by when they wrote it, they just probably wanted to add some fluff to make it longer.”

Trish scoffs at him and tries to start explaining how important studying literature is and how you can learn so much from books, a lecture he’s heard many, _many_ times. “So, how’s Lady doing?” he interrupts. It’s the only topic that can flip her completely on her head. Talking about her girlfriend is the only other thing that brings the same joy to her eyes as teaching.

She stops short and smiles, “She’s working on a big project right now. Just got contracted. I don’t really understand exactly what it is,” Ah, yes, Dante knows. The smile and nod method. Even the almighty Trish uses it, “But it’s important and it could lead to some amazing breakthrough about… something.”

Dante smirks, but doesn’t call her out on the fact that she obviously hadn’t paid all that much attention when Lady had told her about it. Mostly because she’d turn it right back on him. “Good, but I’m not going to be her lab rat anymore.” That had been a mistake. Agree to try something for her _one time_ and Dante hadn’t felt right for months after. And she’d pestered him about it the whole time.

Trish giggled at him, but it cuts off as the first bell rings. “Have you looked at your class rosters yet? Anyone fun?”

“I don’t recognise most of the names this year. Few kids I need to watch out for, but otherwise, new faces. You?”

“Mostly good kids, some new faces, couple troublemakers. Nothing I can’t handle. I think it’s going to be a good year. Lots of fun. But I should head off, need to get there before the troublemakers do. See you at lunch!”

Dante waves her off and grabs another muffin before heading off to his own classroom to start the first day of a brand new year. Teaching history to seniors.

Seniors are the hardest year of high school to teach because they fall in one of three categories: still applying to colleges and stressing about it, already accepted and no longer giving two shits about high school, or not going to college and really not giving a fuck about school. Basically, no one is paying attention and no one wants to come to class. But they always seem to show up to Dante’s class and seem to care about it. That’s his saving grace and the reason he still has a job. He’s not entirely sure how it works out that way, but it does.

His classroom is a pretty simple set up. About 25 desks lined up in rows, a table at the front of the room, whiteboard on the front and one of the side walls. And his desk sits in the back corner. The school has some mandated posters hanging in the back, but mostly he’s just got some sick renditions of historical events on the walls for a personal touch. He’s never cared much for decorating the place more than that.

He picks a random desk in the classroom and sits down. It’s his start of the year ritual. The students in his first class are the unlucky (or maybe lucky, he’s not sure how renowned this whole show is among the students) victims. He looks young enough for the most part that he could be mistaken for a student if the students aren’t paying attention. So every year he pretends to be a student so he can easily discern which ones are going to be a problem.

The class fills in pretty quickly and Dante becomes essentially invisible. The first few students that got there are suspicious, but haven’t ruined the show. Everyone else is chatting with those around them, talking about their summers, reuniting after the last few months of freedom, and speculating about their classes for the year. He hears a few conversations about him, rumours about him and how he is as a teacher and those are the conversations he zooms in the most.

When the final bell rings, he lets the class go on a little longer, just until the confusion starts to set in, let’s it build until it’s the perfect moment.

Then he stands up.

“Welcome to World History. Name’s Dante, call me that.” He makes his way to the front of the room and sits on the stool there. “I don’t like it when you talk while I’m talking, pay attention to me. No phones while I’m teaching, just trust me. You don’t want me to catch you texting. And I _will_ catch you. Other than that, we won’t have any problems. If you don’t suck, we’ll get along just fine.”

The class goes pretty well after that. First day is always pretty simple. Just mandatory syllabus bullshit and some free time. Dante keeps pretty chill most of the time. He figures that’s why he gets attendance consistently.

It’s his last class of the day that is even remotely notable. The students file in slowly, most coming in moments before the final bell. Dante doesn’t take much special interest in many students. He cares about them, and he wants them to succeed and he keeps his classroom open all day to students that need a place to go. He loves his kids, but he doesn’t really take any kind of interest in them.

But something about the boy that comes in, head down, body tense, makes him notice. The kid sits in the back corner, next to the wall and as far away from other people. Dante doesn’t get to see his eyes the whole time.

The final bell rings, and Dante forgets about his sudden interest in the student.

Near the end of class, Dante is sitting at his desk, observing the class from his perch. The students are chatting away at a decent volume, not obnoxious and not quiet. He’s watching students on the side of the room closer to him when he hears a bit of commotion from the other side of the room.

“Shut the _fuck_ up! You don’t know _shit_!” Dante’s attention shifts and he finds the student from earlier, who Dante had learned is named Nero, kind of small but clearly agitated. _Very_ agitated.

“Hey! Assholes!” Dante says in a raised voice. The classroom quiets immediately, probably more from shock at Dante’s swear than anything else. Nero and the other student- another boy Dante already has had his eye on for causing potential problems- are still staring one another down. He stands and makes his way over to them, “Cool it or you both get a trip to the principal so he can deal with your sorry asses. Not in my classroom.”

There’s a moment of tense silence in which the two seniors stare at one another. Dante’s vaguely concerned that the fight might escalate to something more than harsh words, but finally, the presumed aggressor scoffs and sits back down, muttering something under his breath. Nero looks like he’s about to go off again, but a glance back toward Dante sends him returning to his seat.

Moments later, the lunch bell rings.

After the room is clear, Dante heads over to the teacher’s lounge to meet up with Trish.

When he gets into the room, he skirts around other teachers, several of which give him wary looks. He quickly finds his way to Trish, who thankfully has a pizza in front of her.

“My saviour,” he sighs as he sits down across from her. He reaches over for a slice and takes a big bite.

And immediately spits it back out.

“Olives? Really? You _know_ I hate olives!”

Trish snickers, “It’s all they had, sorry.”

Dante glares at her before starting to pick olives off the slice in his hand and flicking them in her direction. Unfortunately, she is prepared and used to this behaviour from him and easily dodges the projectiles.

“How was your morning then?” she asks after another bite of her own slice of pizza.

“Boring. Well, except for my last class there were some words had between a couple of students. Some guy I need to keep an eye on and this timid looking boy. Nero, his name was. Nothing happened really, but I think the one guy pissed the Nero kid off and he got reactive. No biggie.”

Trish’s brow arches but she stays quiet. Instead she munches at her pizza a moment until Dante breaks the silence with a question of his own, “How was your morning?”

Dante listens while he eats as Trish launches into a detailed account of each of her three classes she had that morning. She still has one more this afternoon, where Dante has the afternoon off. More or less.

When they finish eating, they part. Trish returns to her classroom to teach her final class of the afternoon while Dante decides to roam the halls aimlessly. First day of school means no grading to do but that also means he has nothing to do all afternoon. But in order to maintain his full time contract, he has to stay the entire day. So hall monitoring it is.

The afternoon is uneventful. It’s too early in the year for anyone to really make any trouble. There aren’t even many students out passed the bell for class for either of the final two class periods. He finds a few lost freshmen straggling five minutes passed the start of class after lunch, but otherwise, nothing.

He debates walking through the library to check out the students that have free periods in the afternoon. Many of his students with free periods tend to end up hanging out in his classroom as the year goes on, so it would be good to scope out which ones might keep him company while he does his grading. But he ultimately decides against it, instead musing over what lessons he plans on teaching during the week.

After he’s contemplated the first few hundred years of the history he’s mandated to cover for the year, the day is just about ended and he finds a bench in one of the school’s second floor alcoves to relax on for the last few minutes.

When the bell rings, the customary mass exodus of students poor out of classrooms and start rushing toward the parking lot. He notices a few students dragging their feet or catching up with a teacher to talk about something or other. But the halls clear fairly quickly.

He barely notices the wisp of silver hair that passes by him at the back of the crowd of students, dragging his feet a little more than everyone else. Doesn’t notice the way he looks even more downcast, even less pleased about his destination, than he did earlier. Doesn’t notice the way he hugs his arms across his body tightly and scratches at his sides self-consciously.

It’s going to be an interesting year.

\--

The first week is mostly uneventful for Dante. Students tend to be good and attentive while the material is fairly easy. He doesn’t give out homework this early, just some in class worksheets to encourage reading of the textbook (which he knows no one does, but he has to keep up appearances of some kind). He still doesn’t have many students that have decided to hang out in his room during afternoon free periods, so he tends to spend them alone grading worksheets and fucking off on his phone.

So, when a commotion starts up ten minutes into the last class of the day in the hall, Dante is in his classroom to hear it. He ignores it for a little while, more concerned with finishing the pile of worksheets than with whatever bullshit is going on in the hall.

The sounds in the hall escalate, and Dante hears yelling and what sounds suspiciously like it could be fists on flesh. And, that, he’s obligated to go break up. He sighs heavily, as if there is anyone else to hear his irritation, and gets up from his desk. Before he steps out, he glances through the window to scope out the situation.

He was right, there’s a fight going on. There’s a large group of students considering classes are still in session crowded around some students that are very clearly throwing punches. Dante simply observes for a short time, hoping to group will work itself up and break up naturally. He doesn’t like breaking up fights, kids can get in some real shit, especially if they’re over 18. So he just watches.

But something doesn’t seem exactly right about this fight.

Dante has seen his fair share of student fights. They aren’t uncommon. And he breaks up a lot of them because he’s one of the biggest guys on staff, so he intimidates the students. Usually a fight breaks out between two, three, sometimes more students, but the sides are usually pretty even. Usually no more than two on one even in the larger fights.

This one though… It looks skewed. Dante notices there are an unusually large number of participants converging on one location, on one person. From what Dante can see through the window, it looks like it’s more like five or six on one. And that gets real dangerous real fast.

Time to act.

The door swings open with force, banging against the wall of the hallway. Some of the spectators split up and off, several taking their things and trying to melt away from the action. When Dante comes out, more spectators scatter, but the participants are still too busy fighting. Or, slaughtering, really.

By the time Dante makes it to the group, most of the spectators have managed to make themselves scarce.

“Dumbasses!” It isn’t until he shouts, that the fight participants finally pause in their assault. He recognises one or two from his classes. One is a student from his last class of the morning. He takes the pause as an opportunity, “Do you want to get arrested?”

He examines the scene as the fight breaks up and the students back away from one another slightly. He counts six boys total. Five on one. And the one looks like shit. So much so that it takes Dante a moment to realise that he knows the student. From his last class of the morning as well. Nero.

And then it all makes sense.

He recalls the altercation from the first day of class. Recognises that the one student from his last class was the aggressor. This is no doubt some sick form of payback for what he must have seen as a loss or a slight against him. But it’s so much more than that. This was a beat down. Nero had no chance.

Dante points at the five aggressors, “You, shit faces, go to the principal.” A couple of them started to stammer out excuses, something that sounded a lot like it was about to be ‘but it was his fault’ and Dante snarls, “ _Now_.”

When the hall is clear of everyone but him and Nero, he finally turns to the victim in all of this. “I should be sending you there, too, but it’s pretty obvious this was pretty one-sided. So let’s get you to the nurse.”

“No!”

The speed and almost reflexiveness with which Nero declines shocks Dante. So much so that he just stares at him in silence for a moment. Most kids clamor to go to the nurse. It means a free pass out of class and a place where you can pretty much just sleep. He’s never seen any student so adamantly dismiss seeing the nurse.

“Okay,” Dante says, dragging out the vowels, “Well, you look like shit, so at least let me clean you up.” He does, too. Cuts all over. His knuckles are split from fighting back, arms all bruised up. His face took a real beating and he’s going to have at least a black eye to show for it. And based on the way he’s a little hunched, he’s got some hits that made it to his abdomen. Poor kid looks like he was pretty much treated as a punching bag, but from what Dante had seen, he’d gotten some good hit in on the other guys himself.

Nero looks at him and for a moment, Dante thinks he’s going to refuse even that. But, finally, he nods. Tiny and resigned. And maybe even a little bit scared. Dante doesn’t like seeing a student like that at all. So he waves him on after him and goes back into his classroom.

It takes a few minutes of somewhat awkward silence for Dante to rummage around in his desk to find his first aid kit. During that time, Nero just stands nervously near the door, hugging himself without making a sound. Finally, Dante rights himself with the prized box of medical supplies and grins at Nero, “Alright, got it.” He looks around at the classroom, “Why don’t you sit in one of the desks and I’ll patch you up.”

Nero’s eyes dart to the back row of desks, and he slowly walks over to one, never letting his back turn on Dante. When he sits, he winces slightly. But as soon as he’s settled, the scowl he seems to wear like armour returns to his features.

Dante shakes off the thoughts, his instincts to figure out what the fuck is up with this kid, and instead sits himself in the desk in front of the one Nero is in and starts wiping away at the cuts on his face and knuckles with an alcohol swab.

The whole process takes about twenty minutes to finish. Cleans him up and puts bandages on anything actually bleeding. And the whole time, Nero doesn’t say a word. Occasionally, he winces when something stings particularly badly, but otherwise, he takes it incredibly well. Kid must have a pretty high pain tolerance.

“Alright, kiddo. I think you should probably just head on home. No point in staying here and risking getting hurt again.”

Nero looks at him and looks like he’s about to say something. A long moment passes before Nero gives the tiniest nod Dante has ever seen. Dante almost asks him what’s up, almost asks why the hesitation, but he just shakes his head and holds out his hand after standing up, “Come on, I’ll take you up front so they don’t give you any trouble. Plus, I have to go make sure the other guys get their due punishment.” He chuckles, but stops when he gets less than no response from Nero.

They walk in silence together to the front office. Dante keeps glancing down at his side at Nero the whole way. He’s an enigma. A whole week of classes, and the kid has barely made a peep. He keeps his head down and does his work well enough. Doesn’t put forth any extra effort and never raises his hand during discussion. Usually, Dante doesn’t mind these kind of students. They’re easy to deal with and don’t irritate him. But something about Nero draws his attention and makes him feel like there’s something there. Maybe something to solve, maybe something to fix, but just something. Something that requires Dante’s attention.

Dante holds the door open for Nero when they make it to the office. He approaches the front desk and points his thumb back at him, “I’m sending him home.”

The office attendant looks up at Dante with a tired expression and glances back to Nero. There is a moment in which she looks marginally surprised by how beat up he looks, but then her expression falls again and she returns her attention to Dante when a raised brow, “That’s it? Just sending him home?”

Dante narrows his eyes, knowing she expects him to send him for punishment, “Just sending him home.”

For a moment, she looks like she’s going to challenge him, but then she sighs and turns back to Nero, “Phone’s over there to call your parents, you can wait here for them to come pick you up.”

Nero flinches, but it’s almost imperceptible. His lightning fast response is a little more obvious, “I walk home, parents are at work. Can’t call them.”

Dante doesn’t like how that sounds. It’s just a little bit too convenient. And by the way the attendant looks at Nero, he can tell she isn’t entirely convinced either. She gives him a look that implies she’s waiting for him to tell her the truth.

So Dante steps in, “Just let him go, kid’s been through enough today, he doesn’t need parents harping on him for making them miss work, too. He’s patched up,” Dante looks back at him, “he can walk. Just let him go.”

The attendant gives them both measured looks, but finally sighs and writes him up a pass. Nero takes it quickly and scurries off without so much as a goodbye or a thank you. Dante follows him with his eyes until he passes through the door and out of sight. Then he returns his attention to the woman once more, “Did the five students I sent up here find their ways?”

She scowls at him but nods and points toward the principal’s office dismissively. No one at this school likes him.

Dante barely knocks before he throws the door open to the principal’s office. “I hope these boys are telling the truth of the story?”

All of the faces in the small office turn to Dante at his entrance. The students look less than happy to see him, but the principal doesn’t look too much better, in all fairness. Just another on the long list of staff at this school that isn’t his biggest fan.

“From what I’ve been told, there was a violent altercation between these five students and one other. Where is this mysterious sixth aggressor?” The principal looks to Dante with a raised brow, knowing he had a hand in Nero’s absence.

“Victim.”

The principal’s brows raise more, “Excuse me?”

Dante stares hard and challenging, “Victim, not aggressor. The sixth participant was a victim in all of this. If they got hurt,” he glances toward the students and sees that most of them do indeed have some nasty bruises, _Good boy, Nero_ , “it was out of self defence on the other student’s part. I sent him home.” He adds he last part as more of an afterthought.

He gets a look from the principal that looks like it’s supposed to feel chastising, but ends up just making Dante want to laugh. The administration never really worked out the ‘you’re in trouble’ stare. His dad was never really good at it unless he was really pissed. His mom had it down pat. Vergil even had it down pretty well, last time Dante knew. So he’s used to the look. But no one here has it even close to something that really concerns him. So he shoots back a grin that shows that he is entirely aware of just how untouchable he is, “Make sure these clowns get their due punishment.” Then he walks out.

His next and final destination for the day is Trish’s classroom. He glances through her window and sees her sitting at her desk working on something while her students work in small groups around the room. He smirks when he sees several students shooting her less than inconspicuous glances in her direction, namely at her chest. The teenage libido is an amusing thing.

A couple knocks at the door raises Trish’s head to look at him and wave him inside. Dante takes the invitation and saunters in, drinking up the way several of the girls in class look at him as he steps in. He knows he’s talked about in the little circles of high school girls trying to look mature. Much the same way Trish is the object of most of the student body’s fantasies. He likes the attention.

He pulls up a stool next to Trish at her desk as the students go back to working on whatever they’re doing. “Yo.”

Trish peers sideways at him from her work, “What brings you here? Aren’t you usually enjoying a lazy afternoon of not teaching?”

Dante pushes air between his lips and leans back, “Got bored, broke up a fight. Not much.”

Her eyes widen and she finally turns to him, cheek on her palm, “You broke up a fight?”

He smirks just slightly, then gets his story mode on, “Yeah. Remember that Nero kid I told you about? five other guys were all over him. Got pretty beat up, but managed to return some pretty nasty hits himself. Sent him home after I got him cleaned up, sent the other dicks to the man up top.”

“Sounds eventful. Any idea what was behind this fight?”

“Probably just pissy Nero didn’t back down from them. He’s a tough kid.”

One of Trish’s perfect eyebrows arch high up on her forehead, “Oh yeah? And you even know his name.”

Dante narrows his eyes at her, “So? I care about my students. I can learn their names.”

“Dante, just this morning you were telling me how obnoxious you find ‘green backpack red head’ from your second class. You don’t ever learn anyone’s name.”

He smirks at the memory. He did say those words exactly and remembers exactly how obnoxious said kid was shortly after that. “Didn’t like him, don’t want to learn his name.”

Trish shakes her head, “Uh huh… Alright then.”

Dante shoots her a frown, but doesn’t shoot another retort back. Instead, he leans back and shuts his eyes, acting like he’s falling asleep. And that’s how he finishes the day out.


	2. Sketchy Bonding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dante schemes, with a little help from Trish.

It’s Monday before Dante sees Nero again. He missed class on Friday and Dante has a firm ‘no school on the weekends’ approach. He wasn’t even sure if he’d make it in on Monday either, but when the fourth period bell rings, that familiar head of white lowers himself into his regular corner desk.

Lowers himself with obvious difficulty.

Dante watches him from the corner of his eye, but assumes the tenderness is residual from the fight on Thursday. And when all the students have taken their seats, Dante starts his lecture.

\--

When the lunch bell rings, Dante makes sure he catches Nero before he makes his quick escape, “Yo, Nero, you mind staying after for a sec?”

Nero looks at him and it almost looks like… _fear_. It almost makes Dante take it back and send him on his way. But watching him during class has gotten him concerned, it just looks like something isn’t quite right. So when Nero nods, Dante returns to what he was doing at his desk and waits for the room to clear.

By the time he looks up again, Nero is standing next to his desk looking downward as if he’s in some kind of trouble. No one else is in the room anymore and there’s a certain silence that feels a little strained between them. Dante takes the opportunity to look at the boy a little harder.

And his suspicions are confirmed.

There are definitely more bruises than Dante sent him home with on Thursday. On his face for sure. Dante can’t see the rest of him because he’s covered in clothing everywhere else, but the way he carries himself makes it obvious. It’s more extensive than it was on Thursday. Dante can’t be sure exactly _why_ that is, but considering it had just been the weekend, he has his theories. Something is not right with this kid.

“I just wanted to let you know that my classroom is open from lunch to the end of the day if you want to hang out somewhere quiet during lunch and free periods. I don’t let assholes in here.”

Nero’s head picks up and his eyes flash and it almost looks like they get a red tint to them. “I don’t need your help!”

Dante is taken aback by the outburst, but shrugs. “You say that, but it’s only the second week of school and I’ve already had to break up two incidents in which you’ve been involved. I’m just offering, anyway. You don’t have to.”

Nero’s fiery stare maintains eye contact with Dante for several more moments before he turns heel and takes off. When the door closes, Dante sighs. That boy is more of an enigma every day. He clearly has some passion in something. He’s defensive and hard to get close to. A firecracker just waiting to explode. He’s quiet and hardly even noticeable in class. Low key and barely there. But set him off and he won’t take it.

Dante has only witnessed him getting violent or close to it twice. Once, that first day of class. And then again in the fight. The first day proved that he won’t take any shit sitting down. He’s not meek or timid. But he is scared, that much was obvious just now, before he left. He is definitely scared of something. But, what, is still unclear. But it really worries Dante, and he feels like he should be doing something about it.

He thinks on this for the rest of the day. There are a few students that have started coming in during the afternoon classes. Mostly to study or fuck off. As long as they are good and don’t bother his grading or naps, he doesn’t really care. Students come and go and sometimes they ask him for help on something he’s given them. Sometimes he even gets students from other history classes looking for help. He’ll always find time in his busy schedule of lazing around to help out any students. And there are even the occasional students that ask him for life advice.

But through all of this, Dante’s head isn’t really in it. He tries. He really cares about his students, and when they come to him, he tries to give his full attention. But something about Nero is keeping his mind occupied. Putting little tendrils into Dante’s brain and gripping tight with some kind of death grip, refusing to let up.

That kid is going to be the death of him.

\--

After classes have finished for the day, Dante seeks out Trish. She smiles at him as he approaches her, but as he gets closer, her expression drops.

“What’s wrong with you?”

Dante scoffs, “Nothin’.”

She gives him one of those looks that a mother gives her kid when she knows they aren’t telling her everything. It’s unfairly effective.

“Nothing is wrong! I’m just worried about a student.”

Trish’s face softens, “Which student?”

“That Nero kid. The one that was in the fight last week. I think something is up with him outside of school. And maybe even more than that. Something is wrong there, but I don’t know what. And he doesn’t seem very interested in help.”

Most people would try to tell Dante that he can’t help every student. That whatever Nero has going on outside of school isn’t his business or in his job description. But Trish knows him, knows that it isn’t exactly like that. It’s in his nature and he _cares_. To a fault sometimes. “He has a free period, yeah? You could get him assigned to your classroom for it. Use him as a tutor or say he needs tutoring, whatever gets him assigned to you. Plus, the school board will like that you’re taking initiative with students. Win win.”

He looks at her like she’s grown two heads. But what she says actually makes a lot of sense. It’s an opportunity to keep an eye on him and to try to get to know him. Maybe get him to open up so Dante at least knows what it is that’s wrong. Even just having him accept Dante as a trustworthy source to talk to about anything would be a success with this kid.

Maybe Trish is right.

After a few seconds of thinking it over, he waves to Trish and heads off in a new direction, “See you tomorrow.”

Next destination: front office.

The problem with this whole plan, is that he is probably everyone’s least favourite person on staff. So getting something he wants is not always an easy task. But he also has the best track records for helping students pass and stay in class. So he isn’t without some kind of leverage. And he does have ways to ensure he gets his way.

Ways such as flirting relentlessly with the shy office aid that happens to still be here this afternoon.

“Hey is that scarf new? It looks really great on you.”

The aid looks at him with wide eyes, “Uh- I-” she stammers. Then she looks down at her scarf and blushes deeply, “Y-yeah. Tha-thank you.” Her voice is quiet and she speaks more into the garment in question than to Dante, but he figures he’s had the desired effect.

He pulls up a stool and sits down next to where she’s working, “So, I’ve got a favour to ask you.”

She looks at him suspiciously, but still responds with, “What is it?”

“I have a student. And he isn’t doing terribly in my class, but he seems to only do the work when he feels like it and I’m a little worried the information is really making it through to him.” She scoffs at him, subtle dig to his teaching style, but he ignores it and soldiers on. “He’s got a free period last class of the day, I was thinking you could set him up for mandated study hall with me. Just to make sure he’s getting the material and help him improve his grades.”

The aid looks at Dante like she knows this is a ploy of some kind, but can’t figure out how and can’t find a reason not to grant his request. Trish was right, it would look good to the school board that he’s trying to help students understand material. They can’t turn him down.

He knows he’s got it locked when the aid sighs, “Name?”

Dante smiles as she turns to her computer, “Nero.”

She peers at him, “Last name?”

Dante opens his mouth to speak but he realises he has no idea. Damn Trish for being right about everything, “No idea, he’s in my fourth period.”

Another sigh from the aid, but a few clicks and taps with her keyboard signify she’s looking him up. They’re both quiet while she works, Dante looking around the office and swiping a Jolly Rancher from the dish nearby.

“Alright, all set. He’ll get a new schedule tomorrow. Is that all?” Clearly his flirting only goes so far. She sounds irritated.

“Yup, that’s it. See you tomorrow!” He blows her a kiss and she shakes her head at him to hide the blush dusting her cheeks.

\--

Dante shouldn’t be surprised when the fourth period bell rings and near immediately, there is a mop of white hair over a face of rage staring him down. He looks up with as impassive a face as he can manage, “Something I can do for you, Nero?”

The way Nero seeths should win an award. The air around him crackles with intense rage. It’s impressive. “You had no _right_!”

Dante raises an eyebrow, “I assume you’ve gotten your schedule change, then?”

Fists land on Dante’s desk with such force, he almost worries something is going to break. Or would worry, if he cared about the school’s property. “I don’t need your _help_ ,” he spits.

“Maybe not, but I’d like to keep an eye on you. I’ve got a worksheet for you today, just come in here for your free period.”

Nero looks like he’s going to protest again, but another student comes into the room at that moment, ready for class. So Nero just grits his teeth, makes a small snarling type noise, then goes to his regular seat in the corner.

Dante waits for the class to fill up before going to the front of the room. “Today is movie day. We’re going to watch the battle of Helm’s Deep from The Lord of the Rings and compare it wars from medieval Europe. No phones, it’s a good movie anyway.”

He goes over to the DVD player and presses play. Movie days are nice and easy for him, just how he likes it. And the students like them, too.

The class goes by easily except for one incident of note passing. Dante got a kick out of the notes so he read it to the class, much to the mortification of the students involved. Looks like someone has a crush.

Dante spends lunch with Trish and fifth period preparing the worksheet for Nero. It’s really just a bunch of bullshit questions about the structure of medieval fiefdoms. He doesn’t really expect Nero to do it and won’t really care one way or another. 

Fifth period ticks by unnaturally slowly. Dante spends some of it preparing the worksheet, some playing games on his phone. He even answers an email from a concerned parent whose child apparently told them that he called the kid a ‘little shit’ (he did, but that’s beside the point), and he hates answering those emails.

Finally, the bell rings and he can hear doors opening and students wandering the halls between their classes. Nero is usually one of the earlier students to his class, so he expects to see him pretty early in the passing period.

But he doesn’t. The minutes of passing period drag by and Dante simply stares at the door. When Nero still hasn’t come through the door as the final bell rings, Dante sighs. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe he’s pushed too hard and now Nero simply hates him. Maybe he won’t be able to get through to him at all.

Maybe he’s a lost cause.

It breaks Dante’s heart. He doesn’t believe in lost causes. Causes that aren’t worth his effort, sure. But not lost. Everyone can be helped and everyone _deserves_ to be helped. And he has some sneaking suspicions that Nero needs it more than most. He just isn’t willing to accept it. And Dante _cares_. He cares about all of his students. But this one really is special in some way. Trish is right. He’s special and Dante probably cares more than he should. But he wants him to be safe and happy and do well. Have a decent head start on life when he gets out of this wretched place.

The sound of the door opening wrenches Dante from his inner monologue.

And there stands the object of his thoughts. Nero doesn’t look at all happy to be here, but he is. Standing there with his bag slung over one shoulder and his hands balled into fists. “Ah, so he did decide to show up.”

Nero sneers at him then sits in his normal corner seat on the opposite side of the room from Dante. It’s an obvious show of ‘I don’t need you or this’ and Dante doesn’t really much care. At least he’s here. He can work on everything else later. Baby steps and all.

He stands and walks over to Nero, worksheet in hand, “Here’s a worksheet, due at the bell. It’s alright if it’s not finished.” He puts the paper down on the desk, “Let me know if you have any questions.” And that’s it. Dante doesn’t try to force himself on an already pissed off Nero. Doesn’t bother trying to talk to him when he knows he’ll get a grunt at best and some harsh words or even a door slammed in his face at worst. He just returns to his desk and plays flappy bird on his phone.

He does catch the way Nero occasionally glances over at him, especially when he makes a noise when he fails particularly hard in his game. But otherwise, Nero keeps his eyes down and his pencil to his paper. Dante can’t really tell if that’s a good or bad thing, but he takes it for what it’s worth. At least he isn’t just sitting and staring into space.

The moment the bell rings, Nero is gone. He leaves the worksheet on the desk and he’s out the door before the sound stops ringing through the halls. Dante finds this a little strange, considering how he’s noticed Nero tends to be one of the last students in line to leave the building. But he shrugs it off and goes to retrieve the worksheet.

Not a single question is answered on it.

And he went through all that work to come up with it, too. Dante shakes his head. He turns the worksheet over and sees what it was Nero was using his pencil so diligently for. There is an intricate mess of swirls and curves. Nonsense shapes cover the back of the page in little doodles of nothing. He spent the entire class period doodling, rather than even attempting the worksheet. Either he really doesn’t know the material, or he’s entirely aware that Dante couldn’t give a rat’s ass whether he did it or not. Based on his fairly good work when he does turn work in, Dante banks on the latter.

And it continues like this.

Every day, Dante makes up some bullshit worksheet or comes up with an essay question based on the what he taught that day. And each day, Nero sits in silence while he pretends to do the work but doodles instead. Dante tries every now and then to strike up a conversation. Even asks history relevant questions to try to get him to just say something, anything. But nothing works. Nero just ignores him and keeps at his doodles.

At least he’s got tenacity in droves.

And nothing changes. Until about two weeks in. Dante gives Nero an essay question that’s practically unanswerable because he knows Nero isn’t going to attempt it. When the bell rings and Nero shoots out of the room, a single piece of paper is left behind.

Dante likes to keep his classroom clean, so he goes over to the page, intending to throw it out. But dark lines catch his eye and he examines the page.

And is blown the fuck away.

On worksheets, and anything else Nero has left behind, Dante will find swirls and nonsense doodles. Just shapes and lines that don’t really come together to form anything in particular. But this. This is very different.

It’s incredible.

It’s a likeness. An excellent drawing of a young girl, probably someone Nero knows or has seen around school. The shading and the linework look so real. And the expression so serene. She looks happy. Dante doesn’t know very much about art, but he can tell that this is some real talent. Beautifully done and excellently portrayed.

Maybe this is what he needs to finally get through to the boy.

He carefully slides the drawing into a folder and takes his leave for the day.

\--

The next day, Dante spends his lonely fifth period preparing. He thought about making up a question that involved a drawing as part of the answer, but tossed that idea as both stupid and too forward. So he makes up yet another worksheet of bullshit questions he couldn’t care less about and sets it on Nero’s normal desk. But underneath it, he places the drawing that was left behind the day before, but now with an additional note from Dante.

‘Nice drawing, kid.’

Short, simple, and not too in his face. Something Dante would actually say and nothing to scare Nero off with. He spends a little bit too much time making sure the drawing sticks out from under the worksheet just enough, before returning to his desk and waiting for sixth period to begin.

Dante pointedly does not look at Nero when he comes in. He keeps his head down and focused on something on his desk, not that he really knows what it is. He’s much more interested in waiting for a reaction.

He’s more or less disappointed. He can feel Nero look at him, but there is no thanks, no words. There’s also no yelling and accusations, so Dante supposes it’s more of a win than anything else and allows himself a satisfied smile.

The class is the same as always, Nero quietly doodling while Dante observes occasionally. But Dante feels successful. He feels like progress has been made. A tiny chink in the armour that Nero holds so tightly around himself.

Dante returns home that night feeling a little bit lighter.

\--

“Trish, I don’t know anything about art. Help.”

Dante is wandering the aisles of the local Michael’s and he feels completely out of his element.

Trish’s voice comes through the receiver of his cell phone, “I don’t know what you want, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what you’re looking for.”

Dante sighs, “I don’t know. Something you can draw in.”

He can practically hear the way her eyebrow arches as she looks pointedly at him. Or, would, if she could see him, “Go find the fine arts aisle. There should be plenty of sketchbooks there. Just pick one. Shouldn’t be that difficult.”

“Ok, I think I found it. Thanks, see you tomorrow.”

Before he can hang up, she asks, “What is this for anyway?”

Dante frowns. She’ll just pester him or tease him if he tells her the truth. That he really does care more about one student than the others. For whatever reason. “None of your business.”

“Mhm,” she hums. Then, next thing he knows, she’s hung up on him.

“Fine, don’t believe me,” he mutters to himself as he turns into the aisle.

And is promptly faced with an overwhelming number of choices in sketchbooks.

He didn’t realise there were so many options when picking a book of blank paper. It’s just paper! How different could it all be? He glances through his options and finds himself completely out of his element yet again.

It’s probably about an hour later that Dante finally settles on a small little book marked as a sketch book. He figures that should be good enough and it’s not too expensive. So he makes his way to the checkout to pay.

\--

Dante isn’t really sure why he feels almost… nervous as he prepares for sixth period. He leaves the sketchbook on the desk similarly to how he returned the drawing Nero had left behind. He doesn’t even bother giving him work this time. Not worth it, he’s not going to do it and Dante is too lazy to throw something together.

He forces himself to be busy when Nero comes in. Aggressively grades a stack of papers from last week. He’s hyper conscious of him when Nero opens the door and sits down. And more so when Nero finds the sketchbook and no worksheet. But he doesn’t look. Doesn’t look at him until Nero is standing in front of his desk and clearing his throat to get his attention.

Finally, he lifts his head, “Yes?”

“What is this?”

Finally, he speaks. “Sketchbook. Figured you could keep all your doodles in one place. They’re really good.”

Nero’s eyes widen and flick to the book in his hands, “For me?”

“Don’t see anyone else in here.”

Dante returns to grading while Nero flicks his eyes between Dante and the sketchbook for several long moments. Eventually, his body relaxes and it’s like he decompresses all at once. “Thanks.” Dante barely hears it, but he’s glad he manages. One glance upwards rewards him with a glimpse of Nero with his cheeks dusted a healthy pink.

After Nero sits back down, Dante speaks again, “No assignment today. Try and get started filling that book out.”

He receives a wide eyed stare in return, but after a moment of shock, Nero nods and pulls out his pencil and opens up to the first page of the sketch book.

Dante watches him out of the corner of his eye for a moment. Nero gets intensely focused when he draws. His brows furrow together and it’s like he doesn’t notice the world around him. Dante is pretty sure he could have the marching band march through the classroom and Nero wouldn’t notice. It’s kind of cute. Every now and then, he sticks his tongue out just barely in concentration.

After this, it’s like a flood gate opens in Nero’s cold exterior.

Or maybe more like a drainage grate. Afterall, it’s not like he’s suddenly pouring his life’s story out to Dante or anything. Just an occasional response to a question or a random bit of small talk. But he’s _talking_ now. Dante’s managed to get him to stop hating him so much, stop resenting him, and got him to a place where he might just be getting kind of comfortable. Maybe. At least, Dante hopes he’s getting comfortable.

The biggest clue in that he’s getting more comfortable is that he isn’t quite so eager to leave each day. He’s started sticking around after the bell a little longer, finishing up a drawing or chatting about nothing. Every once in a great while, Dante even gets to hear his laugh. A very pleasant sound with the potential to be full of mirth and happiness, but sounds trapped in some way. Like he’s holding back.

So Dante makes it his mission to open him up more.

\--

One afternoon, Dante is kicking back trying to catch a nap or… something, when Nero (from his new preferred seat closer to Dante’s desk) speaks up out of nowhere, “Why is it that I’m the only one whose name you use?”

Dante cracks an eye open and peers at Nero, who is watching him with open curiosity. It’s an expression not common to his face and one that is entirely captivating. So much so that Dante finds himself going to answer before he really thinks about it.

He shrugs, “Only bother learning names of people I like.”

Nero looks down and away and Dante _almost_ misses the pinkness of his cheeks. Kid blushes so easily, how adorable. Dante closes his eyes once more, but this time with a smirk painted across his lips.

Near the end of class, Nero speaks again, “Here.”

This time, when Dante cracks open an eye, Nero is standing in front of him, holding out a sheet of paper. By the looks of it, the paper is a page from his sketchbook. Upon this realisation, Dante opens both eyes and leans forward in his chair. He takes the paper from Nero’s hand and goes to ask what it is, but before he can get a word in edgewise Nero is out the door.

Once recovered from Nero’s hasty exit, Dante takes time to actually look at the page he was handed by the student. It’s definitely a page from the sketchbook, complete with one of Nero’s drawings. Again, it’s a likeness of a woman, but this time, one Dante recognises. Afterall, they’d spent the last couple days of class talking about her.

Joan of Arc dominates the page, donned in shining armour and carrying a flag with one hand and holding a sword with another. She has such powerful emotion rendered into her expression. Nero truly has a powerful gift with art. The image leaves Dante captivated, staring at it for a long time and still discovering new details worked into the drawing.

He’s so engrossed in examining the picture that he doesn’t notice Trish coming into the classroom until she’s standing in front of him and clearing her throat. “What’s got you so focused? I’ve never seen you that interested in something that isn’t pizza… ever.”

Dante sneers at her, “Fuck off. It’s a gift from a student. Hold up so I can put it up.” He gets up and looks around the room. Eventually, he settles on the whiteboard at the front of the room. Finally, a use for one of the many magnets the school puts in each room for no real reason. Once hung, he turns back to Trish, who’s smiling.

“Careful, the ones that give gifts are usually thinking about you when they go home for some ‘alone time’.” The last part she says while making air quotes with her fingers.

Dante nearly chokes.

For some reason, that thought isn’t entirely unappealing to him.


	3. Epiphanies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's completely by chance, but Dante's glad it happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated rating and tags because there is some heavy shit in this chapter. Just be aware. Nothing graphic, but stuff is mentioned.

Dante spends the next several weeks getting to know Nero a lot more. Now that he’s opened up to talking and not being such a piss baby about being forced to spend time with him, they’ve actually had a lot of chance to get pretty close. Dante has to admit, he really likes the kid. He’s smart, even though he has some motivation issues. And general problems with the institution of school. Which, to be perfectly honest, Dante shares most of and totally understands. And his art is absolutely brilliant. He’s started single handedly decorating Dante’s classroom with brilliant scenes from history. It’s made the room a bit more inviting. At least to Dante.

But in that time, Dante has also seen his worry for the young boy grow. Some days, Nero comes to class with bruises or a limp. Sometimes his movements are stiff and obviously pained. Dante tries asking after him, only when they’re alone, but still Nero deflects. Avoids the question, says it’s nothing, and generally refuses to tell him why he’s constantly coming in hurt.

Sometimes, Nero doesn’t come in at all.

Those are the days Dante really worries. Those are the days that he finds it difficult to make it through the day. Anything could have happened on those days. From a simple cold, to being dead. And he knows that it’s ridiculous to worry his student could be dead, but considering his suspicions, he thinks the worry is fairly justified. Because one or two days from school isn’t too bad, but when it stretches on, Dante can’t help but be sick with worry.

It’s nearing the end of the fourth day with no sign of Nero in early November and Dante can’t think about anything else. He’s tortured himself all day with scenarios. How he’s probably going to go home and flip on the news and see a familiar face next to a headline about a local student murdered. Or missing. Or in jail for any number of things. He can’t even imagine what he would do were such a thing to actually happen.

When the final bell rings, Dante wants to do just about anything to avoid going home and turning on the news. So, instead, he wanders the school grounds. He doesn’t really have a destination in mind. He sets himself vaguely toward the sports fields behind the school, hoping to find some kind of inspiration or… anything. Maybe just something to keep him from thinking too hard about his student.

Moments after he steps outside the brick building of the school, the threatening storm clouds overhead get even darker and rumble with an impending storm. Dante takes no more than a handful of steps before the sky opens up and the rain comes down in sheets.

He pulls the collar of his coat up to try to stave off the wind, but there’s not much he can do against the torrential downpour. Not that he really minds. It’s something to focus on. He doesn’t have anywhere to be, just an aimless path through the grounds.

His path starts off on the path toward the football field, but on a whim, he veers off between the baseball and soccer fields to join up with the pathway off the side parking lot toward the softball field. The path next to the field leads back to a little bridge over Kearsley Creek and continues toward the middle school. Dante figures this is as good a path as any. The creek will probably be flowing a little stronger with the rains and the bridge is always a nice place to go, rain or shine.

There aren’t any other people on the path toward the bridge. Not with the rain and school being let out for the day. There won’t be any sports practices in this weather. It’s a nice walk. Lonely and wet, but nice. It helps keep Dante’s mind focused and allows him moments in which he can manage to not think about Nero.

And it’s about the moment he gets the kid off his mind for a few minutes as he reaches the bridge that he sees something. Through the fog and sheets of rain, Dante spots a shape huddled up on a rock down by the creek bed.

It’s complete chance that Dante is looking for a distraction and feels compelled to figure out what the shape down by the creek is. He makes his way carefully down the muddy bank toward the rock.

And finds the exact opposite of what he expected.

Nero is shivering in a curled up ball about as small as he can possibly be. He looks like Hell. Like he’s been through a ringer and a half and that’s before the sopping wet clothes and freezing air. As Dante gets closer, he slows, worried he might startle the boy.

“Nero?”

The boy’s head snaps up and he _snarls_. He’s on complete fight or flight, and in his state, his only option is fight. With his head facing Dante, he can see the injuries there. But there’s something else. Something haunting behind Nero’s eyes that is far far worse than any physical scars.

“Nero, shh, it’s just me. Dante. What’s wrong, what are you doing out here?”

He bares his teeth and doesn’t seem to hear Dante speaking. He looks like he’s in complete shock. Or in some kind of attack. Dante isn’t sure exactly how to approach him. He isn’t concerned about himself, but he is worried about hurting Nero, who is clearly already hurt so much.

Very carefully, Dante gets closer. He goes slow and keeps his hands out. He tries as hard as he can to appear as unthreatening as possible. Finally, he steps up next to the rock where Nero is perched.

Nero is shaking violently. From cold or something else it’s hard to tell, but Dante would bet on a combination of both of them. Dante kneels down and lets his coat slide off his back. “I’m going to give you my coat, ok? It might help a little, warm you up some. Sorry it’s so wet.” Nero doesn’t respond to Dante’s words so he goes to wrap the coat around the boy.

Almost immediately, Nero starts pushing the garment away from him, frantic and mindless. “Hey, hey, calm down, kiddo,” Dante tries. Nero’s moving around makes it difficult to get the coat draped around him, but, finally, Dante manages. He pulls the coat closed with each hand and suddenly, Nero bites him.

It’s not particularly hard, not enough to break the skin. But it’s not gentle either. Nero’s teeth lock onto Dante’s wrist and to avoid hurting either of them, Dante just lets him. With his free hand, he rubs gently at Nero’s shoulder. “Jeez, Nero, do I look like a fuckin’ chew toy?” His tone is joking, but the bite isn’t exactly pleasant. But at least it isn’t too painful either.

They stay like this for some time. Dante kneeling in front of Nero with his wrist in the boy’s mouth and the rain pelting down on and around them. Nero’s jaw almost gnaws at Dante’s skin, but it never gets unbearable, just a minor unpleasant pressure. It would be worse if he tried to pull away, so he doesn’t.

When Dante’s knees start to get stiff from the position, he tries to gently move around to relieve the pressure. Nero isn’t letting up on his wrist, so Dante contorts in such a way that he ends up sitting half behind and half next to Nero on the rock with his arm loosely around him so that he can still gnaw at his wrist. It offers Dante a much more comfortable position and doesn’t seem to bother Nero, so he counts it as progress. Or at least not any hinderance.

Dante isn’t sure how long they sit like this. It’s hard to tell how time passes with the sky obscured with angry, dark clouds and full of big droplets of water. But he gets cold and he’s pretty sure his leg falls asleep while they sit there. They’re quiet, only the rain against the mud and creek as a soundtrack to the moment.

Eventually, Nero’s jaw slackens and Dante can slide his wrist out of his mouth. He’s quiet for a few more moments before, “Come on, kiddo. Let’s go inside where it’s warm and dry.”

Finally, Nero responds positively. He’s slow, sluggish and absent, but he follows when Dante stands and helps him up. The trek back to the school is slow and careful. Nero is unfocused and quiet the whole way, while Dante just focuses on keeping him moving upright. It takes a long time to finally get to the door (which is locked, of fucking course). Dante yanks his keys from his pocket and lets them into the building.

Dante debates on taking Nero to the teacher’s lounge, where there is a couch and probably some food in the fridge, but decides a more familiar and comfortable location would be better to get him out of his daze. So he sets his route for his classroom.

Once there, Dante sits Nero down in his desk chair and kneels in front of him. At first, he just watches him. Nero avoids eye contact and looks haunted and broken. He waits to see if Nero will volunteer anything, try to speak, anything. But he doesn’t.

“Hey. Nero,” he keeps his voice low and quiet, trying to keep from startling him, “What happened, kiddo?”

Nero’s mouth moves, even though he doesn’t look at Dante, but no sound comes out. It’s like he’s trying to answer him, but the sound just can’t come out.

Dante looks Nero over again and glances to the door, “I’m going to go raid the nurse’s office for a blanket and maybe I can find some spare gym clothes or something so you can put something dry on, ok? I’ll lock the door, you’ll be safe.”

“No!” It’s the first direct response Dante gets the whole time. Nero’s eyes widen in fear and suddenly he is intently focused on Dante’s face. He looks so scared and it breaks Dante’s heart.

“Ok, ok,” Dante amends quickly. “Do you want to come with me then? You’re shivering, we need to get you warmed up.”

He obviously hesitates. Whether because he’s untrusting or unsure or just out of it, Dante isn’t sure. But eventually he concedes with a nod.

Once again, Dante finds himself with an arm around Nero, leading him on. It’s slow going again, but the nurse’s office is much closer than the bridge and they don’t have to go outside anymore. Dante leaves Nero sitting in one of the chairs while he raids the stocks for blankets and clothes. Blankets are easy, there are those god awful orange blankets they use for shock in a cupboard that Dante pulls out and drapes over Nero’s shoulders. Clothes are a little harder, especially since Dante’s search area is limited to the areas in which Nero can still see him. But he does manage to find a stash of some spare clothes for dress code violations. They don’t exactly look like they’ll fit Nero, but it’ll at least be warm and dry.

“Here ya go. Probably way too big, but it’ll be dry. I’ll stand right outside while you change.”

For a moment, Dante is worried Nero won’t go. He looks terrified when he realises he’s going to have to go into a room alone in order to change. But he takes the clothes and steps into one of the exam rooms. Before the door closes, Dante reassures him that he’ll be right outside the door, then leaves him to change.

While he’s standing sentinel outside the exam room, Dante finally gets a chance to slow down and think about the last… however long it’s been. Nero is alive. That’s the first thing he processes. Not necessarily well, but alive. And he can be grateful for that. That is one definite victory of the evening.

He looks like Hell though. Looks like he’s been through a ringer and then some. Bruised and beaten and who knows what invisible wounds. More evidence toward Dante’s suspicions. But with no confirmations, he can’t be sure. And he’s not about to jump to conclusions, even though he wants to. Wants to do anything to make sure this boy is safe and well.

Dante vaguely wonders how long Nero was out on that rock before Dante found him. He’s been out of school for four days. He could have ended up on that rock at any time before Dante found him. He wonders when the last time Nero ate was. When he last had a shower. When he last slept.

Before he can dwell on his worries much further, Nero opens the door and comes out holding a pile of sopping wet clothing. Dante takes the mound from him and opens the door out of the nurse’s office.

Once back in Dante’s classroom, Nero nearly collapses onto the floor against the back wall. It’s like all of the fight that he’d been trying to maintain all this time just whooshes out of him all at once, akin to a deflating balloon. His exhaustion catches up with him and he just… stops.

Dante immediately drops to the floor beside him and strokes a bit of hair out of his face, “Hey, shh, it’s ok.” Though, he hardly believes the comfort himself. It is very clearly not ok. When Nero shudders with what looks like it might be pent up tears, Dante leans forward and pulls him into a deep embrace.

It’s like something shifts all at once. Suddenly, great sobs are being wrenched from Nero’s throat. He sounds miserable. His head leans into Dante’s chest and Dante is sure that if he weren’t still soaked from the storm, he’d be soaked from Nero’s tears falling onto his shirt. But he just lets him go, lets him get it out. One hand runs gently up and down Nero’s back, trying to comfort him, while the other holds the back of his head. Occasionally, he coos gently to him, but otherwise, he stays quiet, just letting Nero have his moment.

At some point, the sobs change. It takes Dante several moments to realise that the change is because Nero is attempting to speak through his tears.

“Shh, shh, hey. Calm down. Cry it out, you can talk when you’re done.”

There’s a moment when Dante is brought back to his own high school experience. He remembers feeling like he was hot shit and thinking crying showed weakness. Remembered how he would have hated himself for breaking down like Nero is right now, even though there were definitely times when he had felt the need to and probably should have.

But now he knows better. Crying is good for the soul, shows you’re still human, keeps you sane. It’s good to get it out, whether alone or with people you trust. At least, he hopes Nero trusts him.

He returns to stroking Nero’s back while the boy continues sobbing. It should feel awkward or strange, holding his student like this while he cries uncontrollably against his shirt. But it doesn’t. It almost feels good in a sad kind of way. It’s a closeness that Dante finds he enjoys.

It takes Nero a long time before his tears dissolve into sniffles and he calms down enough to pull back and wipe at his eyes with the back of his hands. His breathing is still laboured and heavy, but he manages to take a shaky, deep breath and then whisper a, “Thank you,” in a cracked, tired voice.

“Yeah, ‘course, b-” He cuts himself off. Never will anyone ever know that he almost called a student baby. _Ever_. That wouldn’t go over well with all the staff out to get him. He shakes his head, “Nero. What _happened_?”

Nero looks away for a moment and then sighs shakily again. “I…”

Silence drags on between them and Dante is sure that’s the end of it. He’s sure Nero will clam up and stay silent and just go home. Dante doesn’t think he’s earned enough of the boy’s trust for him to open up like this. He’s not sure he ever will.

“Mom hits me.” His voice is so hushed, so quiet, and so broken that Dante nearly doesn’t hear despite how close they are. But he does hear. Hears it like it’s screamed at him. It’s almost like all his senses tunnel as he goes into a blind rage. This boy is a _child_. And not just any child. But he is this woman’s _son_. How does a parent do that to their child? Their own flesh and blood. Dante sees red and he has an overwhelming urge to march right on over to Nero’s house and give her back her own medicine.

“She’s a drunk and a junkie and a prostitute. I’m sure it started out of necessity, and the drinking and the drugs were to keep her mind off what she was doing. But now it’s just finding her next fuck to pay for her next hit.” Dante didn’t expect Nero to keep going, so when he does, he stills and listens intently. Nero points to a bruise on his cheekbone, “This one is from her vodka bottle. I’m lucky it wasn’t broken before she threw it. It usually is.”

Nero’s tears seem to have dried near instantly and now his tone has turned almost jaded. Like he’s just bitter but he’s too tired to show it. Too exhausted to put forth the effort to really care. “But she’s not the worst. She’s not the dangerous one.”

Dante can’t even imagine how this story can get worse than it already is. He’s still not even sure why Nero feels the need to tell him. He’s glad he’s trusted enough, but this is personal in a way Dante isn’t entirely sure he’s equipped to handle.

“Mom’s got this boyfriend.” Nero chews on the word, like it’s thick and hard to get passed his teeth. “He was a _client_ but he’d pay for her alcohol and drugs so he kinda just stayed around. Stayed until he stopped leaving at all and became some kind of permanent fixture in our house.

“That’s about the time he started coming after me.”

Nero pauses in his story and looks pointedly away from Dante. Dante gets the distinct impression that ‘coming after’ him meant something a lot more than what he is at first assuming. It’s bad enough to have one parent beat you, but to also have another parental figure beat you? No wonder Nero was always coming in with more bruises than he should have. Especially after tests went back, now that he thinks about it.

After several long moments, Nero clears his throat. It sounds painful, like gravel and sandpaper. And then he continues, “He always comes at night and I stopped fighting it a while back. He doesn’t leave physical marks. Not like mom. His scars run far deeper.”

Another deep breath and a blatant avoidance of eye contact, “He forces himself on me.”

Dante’s entire world skids to a painfully sudden halt.

There are a lot of terrible things in this world. A lot. There’s death and murder and starvation and disease. There’s war and poverty and so much wrong with the world. But he’s pretty sure _nothing_ can top the evil of the rape of a child. Nothing is quite so vile and detestable. What kind of _sick_ human being forces themself upon a more or less defenseless child.

Nero doesn’t deserve this in the slightest.

Dante leans forward and doesn’t even think about it when he pulls Nero in for another embrace. He’s not sure what to say exactly. He can’t say ‘it’s ok’ or ‘it’ll all be alright’ or ‘I’ll get you out of this’ because he can’t lie and he can’t provide a false hope that he can’t guarantee. It’s not fair to either of them. As much as he would like to solve this problem right here and now, march over to Nero’s house and kill the son of a bitch, it wouldn’t really solve much of anything and it’s not really his style. Vergil’s maybe. Not his. At least not now.

So he holds this broken and beaten boy, one that has had to face horrors far more than any person ever should. He doesn’t mind it when tears start up again. He does mind it when Nero starts apologising of all things, so he just rubs his back and tells him there’s nothing to be sorry for. None of this is even remotely his fault. Not his fault he’s got shit for a mom and his mom has even worse of a taste in men.

A question pops in his head and he can’t keep it at bay, “Does your mother know?” He figures Nero will understand what he’s asking. Does she know what _he_ does to you?

There’s a near vicious shaking of Nero’s head against his chest during a very momentary break in his newfound sobs. What kind of world is it when someone so smart and talented and generally pretty awesome as Nero just gets beat on from every direction? How is it that this is what happens to good people?

Dante shushes Nero gently some more while he keeps rubbing at his back and rocking him back and forth on the floor.

When Dante came in that morning for class, he had been worried about Nero, but he’d figured it would be just another day, whether Nero showed up to class or not. And while his worry grew as the day wore on, he never pictured the day would end like this.

A slight pinch of pain in Dante’s collarbone prompts him to look back down at Nero. He’s stopped sobbing, now reduced to silent tears streaming down his cheeks. But he’s biting Dante again. This time right on his collarbone. It’s like some sort of grounding or something. But whatever it is, Dante doesn’t mind it too much. It seems to help Nero out on some level and it’s not hard enough to concern him, so he just lets him be.

Though his positioning could have been a little better.

He spends the next several minutes desperately trying to keep at bay a particularly inappropriate boner. It’s not Nero. Not in any meaningful way at least. He’s just got a thing for biting. And especially around his neck. So it’s totally just positioning that has Dante worked up and attempting to quell the worst timed boner in the history of the world.

At least, that’s what he tells himself.

Eventually, Nero’s jaw slackens again and his body relaxes. Based on the even breathing, Dante is pretty sure he’s fallen asleep. Exhausted from the emotional upheaval, surely. And even though his butt has fallen asleep and his legs aren’t in the most comfortable position, he stays put and lets Nero sleep for a while. Let’s him sleep until he can’t hear the rain pounding on the roof of the building anymore and the window is pitch black from the setting sun.

It’s not until Dante glances at the clock and realises just how late it is that he gently shakes Nero’s shoulder. It takes some prodding, but he manages to bring Nero out of sleep. Violently. Were his reflexes not in top shape, he would have had one hell of a black eye from the punch Nero tried to throw.

“Hey, hey. It’s just me. You’re still at school.” Dante’s hands are gripping just tight enough around Nero’s wrists to keep him from trying to throw another punch and after a few tense seconds, recognition flashes through Nero’s eyes and he relaxes again.

“‘M s’rry I fell ‘sleep,” he slurs with obvious difficulty. Emotional and physical distress, crying, and exhaustion will do that to a person.

“Don’t worry about it, kid. But it’s really fuckin’ late. We can’t sleep here all night.” Dante hesitates before continuing, “Now, I don’t want to take you back to your mom’s place. You got a friend you can stay with? At least for tonight?”

Nero shakes his head immediately, but then stops. “Well. I- Kyrie might- I can ask.”

Dante gives the most sympathetic look to the boy that he possibly can, “Yeah, go ahead and do that. You got a phone? If not, there’s one on the desk, just gotta dial ‘9’ first.”

He gets a nod in response, though to which part of his statement he isn’t sure. Nero pushes himself up off Dante and off the floor and pulls out an older model phone. He takes several steps away before pressing a few buttons and holding the phone up to his ear. While it rings, Dante stares at him, but catches himself when the boy starts speaking. To avoid seeming entirely weird, he takes the moment to stand up himself and regain feeling in his posterior.

“I- that was- Kyrie. She said I could stay over tonight. She’s walking distance, I can just go…”

Dante whips back around to face him and ignores the odd stabbing, roiling feeling he gets in his gut, “Oh no you don’t. It is dark and a storm just came through. It’s a mess out there. I can drive you.”

Nero quickly turns his head and Dante bets that it’s to hide the blush that rises to his cheeks. Has Dante said the kid blushes too easily? The kid blushes far too easily. And it is unfairly adorable.

“C’mon kiddo, grab your clothes, let’s get out of here. Unnatural to be in a school this late, don’t ya think?” It may be a poor attempt at humour, but it is an attempt at lightening the heavy mood some. With the way Nero is acting, Dante isn’t all that sure that he even remembers exactly what has happened in the last few hours.

They make their way out to the parking lot, devoid of life save Dante’s red convertible sitting alone in the staff parking lot. “Woah, nice ride,” Nero comment.

Dante grins, “Just because I’m a teacher doesn’t mean I can’t be cool, too.”

“And that just made you the opposite of cool,” Nero retorts with a snort.

“I’m wounded,” Dante replies with mock hurt. He unlocks the car and holds open the passenger door for Nero to climb in. He’s lucky he decided to put the top up today, otherwise the interior would probably be more akin to a lake than a car. Dante rushes over to the driver’s seat and slides in before starting her up and cranking the heat. November in Michigan is always so cold.

Nero directs Dante down the streets of Ortonville. It takes about five minutes of driving for Dante to conclude Nero was full of goddamn shit when he said the house was within walking distance, but he doesn’t call him on it. The kid just doesn’t know how to accept help, even when it’s being blatantly offered.

Finally, about ten minutes after leaving the school, they make it down to the end of a long dirt road and up a winding gravel driveway to a nice house set back in the treeline, far from any roads. “This is it?”

Nero nods and pushes the door open, all but bolting out of the car, “Um, thanks. For the ride. Uh. See you… tomorrow?”

Ah, yes, tomorrow. Friday. One day before the weekend. Dante feels like the week should just be goddamn over already. “Yeah, see you tomorrow, kiddo. Take care of yourself.”

The door closes and Dante turns around and drives away from the house, leaving Nero to his friends.


	4. Cooking Suspicions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dante can't stand by and watch without doing anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas!

Friday morning comes and Dante is surprised to find Nero sitting outside his classroom before he even gets there. “Hey kid, what are you doing here so early?”

Nero’s head snaps up the moment Dante starts speaking, “Oh, uh, Kyrie had a choir thing or something. I don’t know. But we got here early so I just came here.

Dante raises a brow, but doesn’t say anything. He steps over Nero’s bag, sitting on the ground in front of his folded up legs, and goes to unlock the door, “Well, you can hang out here until class starts if you want.”

Nero nods and stands as Dante turns the key in the lock. He’s practically right on the elder’s heels as he steps into the room and turns the lights on. When he goes to put down his things behind his desk, Nero tosses his bag in a desk and takes the one next to it, right in front of Dante’s desk. Dante turns back and sees the boy staring at him, “Something I can do for you?”

There’s another one of those blushes Nero seems to be so prone to. His head turns and he looks away, “No… I-” But he doesn’t finish. Just sits down in the desk he’s chosen and looks forward, away from Dante. Dante raises an eyebrow at him before continuing to unpack his things.

When the bell rings, Nero books out of the room oddly quickly. Dante had assumed he’d have to nearly kick the kid out when classes started, but Nero is out of the door before the bell tone has finished ringing. He stares at the door after him with what is probably a horribly confused expression before he catches himself and shakes his head to clear it. Can’t be looking like that when students come in.

A piece of paper catches his eye on one of the desks and it takes him a moment to realise that it is the desk Nero had been sitting at. Before any of his first period students come in, he goes over to it and picks it up. When he flips it over, his breath catches.

It’s another drawing, which, on some level, Dante had expected. But in no way did he expect the drawing he finds. It’s impeccably detailed, with every blade of grass and every leaf drawn out, even with the slanting rainfall obscuring most of it. It’s interesting because the focus of the drawing seems to be the empty bridge, just a scene of the bridge in the rain. But in the lower corner is a large boulder with two people huddled together on top of it.

Dante can pick out the details that define the two people as himself and Nero, but anyone else would probably just think it’s an arbitrary couple of people. But Dante knows. He was there last night, living that scene. The image brings back vivid memories of the night before. Of Nero crying, the biting thing he did, and of the confessions made.

Odd emotions spark somewhere in his abdomen and it scares him. He quickly pulls the page against his body and goes to put it in his bag. Safely hidden away from prying eyes into this highly personal moment between the two of them.

Fuck.

Dante’s first several classes drag by and his mind is fixed on Nero. He would find himself stopping mid story and spacing off, then shaking it off and coming back to a classroom full of confused faces. Eventually, he just gave them a couple essay questions to work on so he could sit in the back at his desk and _think_.

Not that he did much actual thinking. More like just remembering. Remembering the night before and exactly what Nero looked like at every moment. It’s a kind of mulling he can’t recall ever having done before.

Well. Except…

Nevermind.

By the time fourth period rolls around, he’s practically a mess. His mind is stuck in last night and he doesn’t know why. He can’t get the boy out of his head and he can’t figure out what he can _do_. He wants to help him. Wants to get him the fuck out of that house and away from those toxic people. Wants to save him but he just doesn’t know _how_.

It takes Nero literally snapping his fingers in front of Dante’s face for him to come out of this trance. Seeing the boys face does something to him. Maybe it’s just knowing that he’s safe. For the time being. And maybe it’s proximity. Or something. He doesn’t know, doesn’t dwell too hard.

Just smiles.

“Hey, kiddo.”

Nero looks at him strangely, “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing, kid. Just spacing. Go sit, class is about to start.”

He would have thought teaching would be easier with Nero in the room. But it’s not. Not by a long shot. Because now, instead of scenes of crying and sopping wet hair, he’s seeing images of Nero piled in his lap and held against him. Feeling the way he molded against his chest.

It’s very distracting.

So another essay question it is while Dante hides at his desk so the images and feelings at least won’t interfere, if they won’t back the fuck off.

It takes _ages_ for the bell to ring.

The class leaves with haste, as they tend to do right before lunch. But Nero hangs back.

“It alright if I stay here?”

Dante looks up from where he’d been resting his head on his crossed arms, “Huh? Oh, yeah sure. I’ve got to go talk to someone right now, so you’ll be alone. But you can hang out here much as you like.”

Dante doesn’t wait for anymore questions or concerns from the young student. He gets up and walks out of the room quicker than he usually would.

Once he finds his way to Trish’s classroom he damn near collapses into one of her desks.

“What’s up with you?” she asks around a mouthful of what might be pasta salad.

Dante sighs heavily, “Alright, so I’ve got a story for you.”

Her eyebrow arches, and jeez would she stop that? then she peers over her fork at him, “Go on.”

“So I have this friend-”

“You don’t have any friends.”

He shoots her a glare, “Ok, so I have this hypothetical situation-”

She giggles, “Suuure you do.” She drags out the word sure with obvious sarcasm.

This time his glare is considerably more venomous and he would throw something in her direction if he had something to throw, “So I have this _hypothetical_ situation.” He pauses, waiting to see if she’s going to interrupt again. When she stays quiet, just sitting there with her obnoxiously knowing look that reminds him far too much of his mother, he continues.

“So, _hypothetically_ , there’s this guy. And he’s like, I don’t know, a fucking- those guys that make like shoes or something. Doesn’t matter. Master of his craft and all that bullshit. Anyway, he’s got this- this… apprentice. And the apprentice didn’t much like him at first but they got to know each other and got pretty close. And one day, the apprentice kinda broke down and told the master a lot of horrible personal shit. And the master wants to do something about it, help him out. But he doesn’t know how, because, like, killing the people that are the problem isn’t really an option and all that. Illegal or whatever. So he can’t really do anything. And it’s a problem because he’s finding that he might have some feelings that are more than just protective but maybe a little more… meaningful. But he’s the kids master and it’s like, unethical and shit. So now he’s all fucked up over it and doesn’t know what to do.”

He stops to breathe and finds that he pretty much told that entire monologue in one breath. He looks back to Trish with hope in his eyes.

She stares back at him and her expression has morphed into something he can’t quite place. But it looks vaguely like disbelief.

“Dante, I swear to God, if you are _actually_ fucking a student…” She trails off, but the threat is obvious.

“Jesus, Trish, no! I told you, this is all hypothetical.”

Again with the eyebrow raise, “Yeah. And this has absolutely nothing to do with a certain student you haven’t shut up about since the first day of school. You’re in denial, Dante. Don’t you dare do anything, you will get fired and _worse_.”

Dante holds up his hands, “I should take offense to that. I’m not doing anything!”

“Just had to be sure,” she says before taking another bite. “As for what to do, I don’t really have any advice. But it sounds like a police report might be in order.”

Dante hums in acknowledgement. While Trish hasn’t really had many helpful words for him, just talking to her makes him feel a little better about everything. She’s a good friend.

He doesn’t think he’s going to get much more out of her, and he’s kind of starving, so he thanks her and waves goodbye as he heads back to his classroom.

Nero is there, of course. He looks up when Dante comes in, looking almost nervous, as if it could be someone else. But he breathes a heavy sigh the moment he recognises the elder. “Yo,” Dante says absently, heading toward his mini fridge for his lunch. Cold pizza. No olives. Perfect.

An odd itching sensation on the back of his neck prompts him to look at Nero before he manages to take the first bite. He’s staring, “What?”

“Aren’t teachers supposed to set examples or something? Not eat cold pizza for lunch?”

Dante scoffs, “Cold pizza is the best. It’s got all the food groups! You got your grains, your dairy, your fruits and veggies, protein. It’s great!”

Nero shakes his head with a soft chuckle, “Whatever, man.”

Dante shrugs, “More for me.” As Nero returns to whatever he was doing before, looks like drawing again, Dante finally eats his pizza. Magical. Everyone should have cold pizza for lunch. Why do people eat anything else?

The rest of the lunch period passes mostly in companionable silence. Every once in awhile, Nero and Dante would exchange a few words. Mostly Dante asking Nero what he’s drawing and Nero adamantly claiming it’s nothing. But mostly, they just sit in silence doing their own things.

When the bell rings, Nero packs up slowly and offers a shy little wave as he leaves the class for his fifth period.

The period drags. It’s oddly lonely for Dante. No students come to visit and Dante is left alone with his thoughts. It’s quiet and almost suffocating. He tries to use the time grading all the essays he had his students do that day, but he can’t focus on them. He finds himself staring at the clock for minutes at a time just tracking the second hand as it ticks around in torturous circles. The longer he stares at it, the slower it seems to go, and when he glances to the minute hand, he realises only a minute or two has passed. Five, if he’s lucky.

The bell almost startles him when it rings, but it also makes him breathe a sigh of relief. At least he won’t be alone anymore. Nero will be there.

Just as he thinks it, the boy comes through the door with a big grin. Dante raises an eyebrow, “What’s got you all smiley, smalls?”

Immediately, the smile falls to a scowl, “Smalls? I’m not that small.”

Dante stands and walks over to him, placing a hand on his head and dragging it over to himself, hitting about at his chin. “Yeah. You are,” Dante laughs.

Nero’s face twists into a deeper scowl as he pulls away from Dante. “Shaddap.”

Dante laughs again and returns to his desk while Nero goes to the desk he had occupied that morning and pulls out his sketchbook.

As the class goes on, an odd roiling in Dante’s stomach gets worse and worse. By the time class in nearly over, he finally places it. When the bell rings, Nero is going to go home. For the entire weekend. And Dante can’t really do anything about it.

Technically, he’s mandated to report it. It’s not even suspected child abuse, he’s got a full on confession. But he can’t do that without Nero’s go ahead. He has this boy’s trust. Whatever that means. He’s somehow earned that. And he won’t betray that, no matter what the law says. However much it kills him to let Nero go to that house.

The bell rings and Dante’s head snaps to Nero. _Please don’t leave_.

Nero looks up at the clock at the sound of the bell then to Dante. He’s almost sheepish looking. He ducks his head and turns to his sketchbook. “Um…” he starts. Dante doesn’t speak, waiting for him to continue, “I- I’m not finished with this drawing yet, do you mind if I stay?”

Dante sighs, but tries to mask it, “As long as you’d like, kiddo.”

Nero stays well into the afternoon. It’s near seven by the time they awkwardly tell each other that they really need to get out of here, made even worse by the janitor that comes in and is confused as to why there are still people at the school. Especially in a random classroom and only a teacher and a student.

Dante makes it an entire week before he can’t take it anymore.

Actually, it’s technically more than a week, because it’s not until Monday rolls around again and he’s worried as fuck that Nero is going to come in beat to shit or, worse- not come in at all. They’d come to an unspoken agreement over the last week that Nero would hang around until about seven and then they’d go home. In that time, Dante had casually noted that he is technically obligated by law to report child abuse to the authorities. Nero nearly broke down, terrified and adamant that he _not_ report it. It made Dante nervous not to, but he’s still much more concerned with his relationship with Nero. Because if he loses that, then he definitely loses any way of helping the boy.

Not to mention the thought of it practically makes him sick.

But on that Monday, Dante is relieved that Nero shows up to school. Less so that he shows up obviously a bit more hurt than he had been the week before. But that’s better than most times he shows up beaten on. And he doesn’t look quite so skittish as he sometimes does. But that doesn’t really assuage Dante’s worries.

He keeps a close eye on the boy when he’s in the classroom. He tries not to be creepy or overbearing with it. Tries to come off as more of a fatherly caring than what he’s still trying to tell himself it’s not. But it is. He cares about the boy more than he should.

After school, Dante can’t focus on anything. He usually takes the extra time at the god forsaken building to grade or make up tests or something else that he usually avoids doing for as long as possible. Nero has been good in that respect, he gets a lot more work done at a much more reasonable time with him staying around all the time. But today Dante has just been a mess. His eyes keep darting to the clock, willing it to slow down so Nero won’t have to go to that awful house where awful things happen to him.

Finally, at about five, Dante can’t take it anymore.

He stares at Nero’s back for a good five or so minutes before he can force his jaw to work enough to form the words. “Hey, Nero?”

Nero keeps at his drawing for a few moments, finishing up something, Dante would imagine, before turning in the seat to face him, “Hmm?”

The kid looks so earnest and trusting and it practically kills Dante. How has he come to deserve this? “At the risk of sounding creepy, d’you maybe want to hang out at my place for a while? Instead of here. There can be food.”

Nero’s eyes widen almost comically. Would be comical if Dante wasn’t so goddamn nervous. Why is he nervous again? What is it about this kid that makes him care so much? He pulls his attention back to Nero as the boy processes the question. At least, that’s what Dante assumes he’s doing. He’s been frozen in the same wide eyed stare since the question was asked. It’s kind of concerning, actually.

“Hey, kid. Did you hear me?”

That snaps him out of it. Nero shakes his head then looks at Dante again, “I- I mean, uh, yeah. Sure. I…”

Dante waits a beat to see if he’s going to continue, and when he doesn’t he claps his hands together. Which apparently startles Nero into jumping a bit. “Alright then, pack up your shit, let’s get going.”

Nero fumbles around trying to get his stuff together. But so does Dante. Though he’d never admit it. He rushes through throwing everything together, loses his keys, realises he threw them to the bottom of his bag, has to dig them out. He’s a mess, really. He’s just glad Nero agreed to this. It’ll make him feel better and give them a reason to stay together longer. Less time at Nero’s toxic home and more time in the safe company of his teacher.

Who totally isn’t crushing on him.

Who is he kidding?

Finally, he gets it together enough to lead them out to the parking lot. Dante glances around for Nero’s car, assuming he has one. “No car? Don’t all seniors around here drive?”

Nero curls in on himself a bit and coughs, “Um, I car pool. And walk. It’s no biggie.”

Dante side eyes him, “Where do you live?”

Another cough, “Ah, Sashabaw Meadows.”

Dante remembers that place. He doesn’t go in that direction much, but he’s passed by the place. It’s a mobile home park, pretty big. Cheap places packed in pretty tight. Not the nicest of places to live, but it’ll get a struggling family by. And it’s known for people like Nero’s mom. The… less savoury members of society.

And it’s far.

“You _walk_ there? And you let me believe you had a car all this time?” Dante feels like shit. He could have at least been driving the kid home each night they’ve been parting ways at seven. Long after the sun has gone down. And it’s _cold_ out.

Nero shrugs, “It’s no big deal. ‘M used to it.”

Dante wants desperately to chastise him further, but it won’t help. Now he knows, and if he needs a ride, Dante can offer that. And won’t let him refuse if his only other option is _walking_.

So he just hefts his bag farther onto his shoulder and walks toward the staff lot.

Dante lives surprisingly near where Nero lives. Not quite as far out. Just passed the dairy farm on a well used dirt road that gets a bit difficult to navigate when the rain is really bad. But he likes it. The road is quiet, not too many people. His yard is huge and he can barely see his neighbours. It’s a good place.

The house isn’t anything too large or special. Just a little ranch style house. One story with a nice finished basement. More bedrooms than he really knows what to do with, so one is a guest bedroom and the other he turned into a sort of personal escape. Pretty much just a room with a couch, jukebox, and a cooler full of beer. Nice place to relax.

Dante parks in the garage and ushers Nero in through the garage door and into the kitchen. “There’s a table there, couch in the living room, pool table in the basement if you’re really ambitious. Make yourself at home, don’t steal my beer.”

Nero looks around, obviously nervous. He holds his bag close to himself like he’s afraid to touch anything. He carefully sidles through the opening between the island and the wall and settles carefully into a chair at the table.

“Don’t look so stiff. It’s just me. This is my house. You can’t really break anything.” He goes to the fridge and starts looking around for something to eat. There’s… not much. “Uh, I’ve got like. Eggs. And cheese. And bread. So I could do a sandwich?” It’s a question, because he doesn’t cook. The eggs are there from the last time Trish came over to make him food that wasn’t pizza. He’s not much of a cook at all.

Nero shrugs and makes a noncommittal sound Dante assumes is affirmation. Sounds like he’s up to eat just about anything. Good. Now. Eggs. How do you cook those?

Dante pulls all of the necessary ingredients from the fridge and manages to locate a pan. He tosses it on the stove and after several minutes of experimentation, he manages to turn the burner on. Well. First step accomplished.

He glances back at Nero to see he’s being intently watched. Great. Now there’s performance pressure. Attention back to the stove, Dante cracks a couple eggs into the pan. He manages to fuck that up and get little pieces of shell _everywhere_. He tries to pick it out best he can, but he’s pretty sure there are some adhered to the pan now. No hope. There will be shells.

After the pan starts hissing, he goes to scramble them up a bit more and something isn’t quite right. The eggs don’t slide around in the pan like he’s pretty sure they’re supposed to. And they look… weird. Something is clearly not right here. But he has no idea what it could possibly be, so he just keeps on trucking on.

He leaves the eggs to cook while he sets up some bread and picks out some cheese to throw… on the eggs he guesses? It needs to melt, so sure. But when he turns his attention back to the eggs, they look very wrong and they’re kind of smoking and they don’t look so great. He tosses the flame off and scrapes them out of the pan, tossing a wary glance back toward Nero, who’s smirking. He pulls out a fork and takes a taste.

Nope. No way. He can’t feed that to anyone.

He turns around to Nero, “So… how does pizza sound?”

Nero laughs. “You really have no idea what you’re doing, do you?” Dante scowls, but then cedes his incompetence with a shake of his head. “Pizza sounds fine.”

Good, got that number on speed dial. They delivery guys all know him. “Great, what do you want on it.”

“Pepperoni and olives.”

Dante does his best to keep his cringe internal. Olives. Of fucking course he wants the one thing Dante can’t _stand_ on a pizza. “Alright, you got it, kid.” He suffers.

He calls up the pizza joint and puts in an order for a large pepperoni olive pizza. It pains him to order it. But he does it, because Nero wants it.

He hangs up the phone and leans against the island toward Nero, “Meanwhile, you want to watch TV or something?”

Nero shrugs again. So agreeable today. So Dante leads him into the little living room with big windows overlooking the front yard. It’s a good vantage point to wait for pizza, he could see the driveway quite clearly from the couch. He flicks on the TV with the remote and settles into the couch. He probably stretches out more than is strictly polite, but Nero doesn’t seem to mind. He occupies a tiny spot on the end of the couch, curled up in such a way that he can prop his sketchbook up on his legs.

And he draws.

They fall into their comfortable silence, a pleasant companionship, quite easily. Dante half focuses on the television and half on Nero. He likes watching him draw, seeing the way he gets so determined and his brow furrows. It’s adorable really. And Dante catches himself smiling more than once at the sight.

Maybe fifteen minutes into this, Dante is paying a bit more attention to what’s on the screen when Nero speaks. “Is that… a dog barking?”

Dante hardly registers the question for a moment. But then he hears the sound, too. “Aw shit. I gotta feed them, they’ll just get noisier until I do.”

Nero looks at him in completely confusion, “You have dogs?”

Dante grins, “Yup. Two of ‘em. Ebony and Ivory. They’re dumb as fucking rocks, but they’re big babies. Sweetest things. Scare most people cuz they’re dobermans. But it’s their dinner time right about now. I won’t be long.”

He gets up off the couch and slips on some shoes before jogging down the stairs into the basement. The basement walks out into the backyard, where there’s a decently sized kennel area for the dogs during the day when Dante isn’t home. He hates keeping them so cooped up, but they’re terrors if he doesn’t and he can’t have them running off.

The moment the dogs see him, they start wiggling their whole selves and whining this weird breathy whine, indicating they both can’t contain their excitement and also feed me. Dante smiles to himself, then opens up the kennel.

And is nearly bowled the fuck over by two big dobermans showing him their affection.

“Get down, you goddamn brutes. Do you want your dinner or not?”

It takes them a minute to calm down enough for Dante to get their food. Once they are happily eating, he returns upstairs. “Fair warning, when they’re done, they will come up here.”

Nero gives him a look, but doesn’t protest, so Dante assumes he’s fine with the dogs.

The television occupies Dante’s attention for another few minutes until baying dogs and the sound of crunching gravel announces the arrival of the pizza. Dante claps his hands together and gets up. Dogs come bounding up the stairs and crashing into his front door before he has the chance to open it, even though they could just go around the house.

Nero follows him out when he goes to greet the delivery man. They exchange a few pleasantries, and Dante hands over the money in exchange for the warm box of pizza. He inhales the heavenly scent then leads Nero back into the house, letting the dogs back in as well.

Dante dumps the pizza box on the couch between his and Nero’s seats and opens it up. Oh yeah. Olives. Gross. Still, he takes a slice and take a big bite, chewing resolutely despite the foul taste of the evil little black rings of olive.

And Nero just stares at him.

“What? You gonna eat?”

Nero looks at him like he’s crazy, “No plates? No table? You eat like this?”

Dante gives him the blankest look. “Yeah? Just. Take some and have at it?”

It’s like he’s speaking a foreign language. Nero can’t seem to grasp the fact that Dante has absolutely no structure in his eating habits. And that he’s allowed to as well. What kind of hell have his parents put him through that even the concept of eating in the living room is jaw droppingly foreign to him. “Seriously, kid. Don’t sweat it. Just eat. Don’t get any grease on your drawing.”

Nero looks at the sketchbook laying in his lap then sets it aside before tentatively taking a slice of pizza. He holds it like it’s going to spill all over everything and takes the smallest bite Dante has ever seen a human being take. Dante shakes his head like a mother watching a child doing something silly and returns to his pizza.

It’s the only time Dante ever remembers not eating more than two slices of a pizza. But after two, the olives are too awful and he can’t take the taste anymore. But, after Nero calms down about his apprehension over eating, he becomes practically ravenous and the rest of the pizza disappears quite quickly.

The moment the box is tossed, the dogs attack.

It’s like they’ve just now realised that a new person is occupying the couch and they must determine if this human will provide them affection. They both jump onto the couch, which they very much do not fit on, and go to smother Nero in affection.

“I warned you,” Dante says with a chuckle as the boy is practically consumed behind the bodies of his excited dogs.

Nero tries to push them away and ends up giving in to petting them some. Dante watches him struggle to keep the dogs from just climbing right onto him and forcing their affection onto him. Well, they seem to like him, so that’s good.

While he’s occupied with vicious dog cuddles, Dante notices Nero’s sketchbook is open to the sketch he’s been working on all evening. He cranes his neck a bit to see it.

At first, all he can tell is that it’s a person. They look to be sitting, or maybe lounging is a better word. He leans toward the sketchbook a little more and then he realises what it is.

Nero has been drawing _him_.

“You drawing me?”

There’s the sound of commotion as Nero flails wildly and the dogs get freaked out enough to hop off and walk away from him, looking terribly affronted. He scrambles for the sketchbook and hugs it to himself, trying to hide the image from Dante’s curious eyes.

Dante raises an eyebrow, “Too late now, I saw it, kiddo.”

Nero scowls through a blush then lowers his arms. He stares at the drawing for a moment, then holds it out toward Dante without looking at him.

He takes the offered sketchbook and examines the drawing closer. This time, he can see the parts that are unfinished and those that are rendered full of detail. There’s a sketchy couch behind an incredibly detailed image of Dante. His face is the most finished looking, and yet it looks like it might have suffered the most erasing as well. The expression on his face has been captured immaculately, almost like looking into a strange mirror. His clothes are drawn out, some parts still sketchy and other parts fully finished with folds all in their right places and shading that makes it look three dimensional. Dante’s come used to seeing Nero’s art and how talented he is, but this is an entirely new level.

“Holy shit.”

Dante glances up and finds Nero watching him intently with bright red cheeks, waiting for his reaction, “It’s not finished and I can’t get it right and it’s not very good-” He speaks without breathing until Dante cuts him off.

“It’s amazing. Have you ever thought of doing something with this? Going to school for art?”

Nero’s blush deepens even more, “No, I’m not that good. And there’s nothing in it.”

Dante stares at him in utter disbelief for several long moments, “Who the _fuck_ told you that?”

Nero stutters to answer but can’t seem to form a word, but it doesn’t matter because Dante already knows the answer. Or at least some of the answer. “Don’t let _anyone_ tell you you aren’t good enough or that there is nothing in going for your dreams. If you like art and you want to do something with it, you will find something. Yes, surviving as an artist is difficult. But there is so much more you can do with an art degree than just being famous. And you will have support. From me if from no one else. You will have support.”

When he’s finished, he maintains eye contact with Nero. Nero, however, seems to be trying to avoid returning the eye contact. His cheeks are redder than Dante has ever seen and he’s wringing the hem of his shirt, clearly nervous and uncomfortable.

So Dante slides closer to him and puts a friendly arm around him, “Hey, I’m serious, Nero. I’m here for you. To support you. As a friend, as a teacher, as whatever you need.”

Finally, Nero turns his head toward Dante and suddenly their faces are so _so_ fucking close. An intense moment passes. Two. Three. Then Nero sighs and nods, “Yeah, thanks.”

“Good boy.” Wow, calm down. Dante slides away from him again before he does something stupid and tries to focus on the television again. He pets Ivory absentmindedly when she comes over to him and Nero returns to his drawing.

It’s near ten at night by the time Dante forces himself to kick Nero out. Gently, of course. He helps him pack up and drives him home.

Before he gets out, Dante stops him. “Gimme your phone.”

Nero looks at him utterly confused, but obeys.

It takes Dante a minute to figure out how to navigate the device, but he taps in his number and then shoots himself a text to save Nero’s number for himself. “Call me any time.”

As he hands back the phone, his hand lingers on Nero’s just over what is socially acceptable and it would be so easy to lean just a little farther over and do something very _very_ illegal. But Nero pulls away and Dante is slammed back into reality and he watches him head back into the hellhole of a house. Nero swears his parents are probably asleep or out by then, that they won’t be a problem. But Dante still worries.

He doesn’t leave until Nero disappears through the door.


	5. Underage Student

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dante has several problems and all of them have to do with his underage student.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating bump!

It’s probably unethical and it’s probably toeing the line of legal, but ever since that night, instead of hanging out for hours on end in Dante’s classroom, Nero just comes home with him each afternoon. Nero gets much more comfortable and almost daring around Dante. They get closer and there are more than several moments in which Dante almost forgets that they’re teacher and student and that they aren’t supposed to be quite this close. Hell, they get each other Christmas presents and spend several days of the break together.

But he can’t deny how he feels about the boy.

He’s not sure exactly when he gave up trying to tell himself that he isn’t in love with the kid. Hard and fast wants to hold him through the night and kiss every bit of him love. But he got sick of pretending he wasn’t sick to his stomach if Nero so much as mentioned a girl or if Nero would miss part or all of lunch in his classroom to spend time with his ‘friend,’ Kyrie.

He got sick of pretending his care was just a teacher’s care for a student, that his concern was nothing more than an appropriate way to feel about a student. Somewhere along the line he accepted the fact that the fluttering and tightness in his chest any time he’s close to Nero is something more romantic than teacherly.

And it’s torture.

Being in the same room with him is like soaking in hydrofluoric acid for hours. It’s like suffocating slowly. Being in the presence of this kid and not being able to do anything about the way he feels. It’s like being impaled repeatedly through the chest, tearing out the sword, just to be impaled again. It’s slow and painful and absolutely miserable.

But he keeps doing it.

He keeps letting Nero hang around, keeps bringing him to his house every evening. Keeps feeding him and encouraging his art and helping him apply to colleges and being there for him. Because Nero matters. He matters so much, so much more than any unrequited feelings Dante may have for his _goddamn student_.

And it’s hardest on nights like this one. Nights when Nero is happily sketching away, sitting close enough that Dante can feel his heat and smell him from where he sits. Nights when Nero looks over at him with such innocence and asks.

“Hey, Dante? How do you know when you like someone?”

Dante’s whole body freezes on instinct. Shit. “Uh, usually there’s that whole butterfly bullshit in your stomach and whatever. But if you think they’re pretty enough to fuck…” He trails off, then. It hurts almost too much.

Nero cocks his head a little, “What’s it like being in a relationship?”

Dante cocks a brow, “What? Never been in one? Handsome kid like you?”

He’s pleased with the way Nero blushes. It’s so easy, he knows so many ways to get him to and it’s adorable every time, “No.”

“Well, I’m the worst person to ask. I’ve never done the whole relationship thing. I’m more of the one night stand kind of guy more often than not.”

Nero scowls, acting as if he’s just had a very unpleasant mental image.

For the next three days, Nero doesn’t take lunch in Dante’s room and he doesn’t stay after school, doesn’t come over. Because he has a date.

Dante tries so hard to ignore the sick feeling in his stomach. He has to force himself not to come up with some excuse to keep Nero with him when he goes off to hang out with his little girlfriend. It hurts, it’s painful, but if it makes Nero happy, Dante isn’t going to go back on his promise to support him.

Those three days are lonely. Dante still sees Nero in class. And in sixth period. But it’s still lonely. Two class periods are not nearly enough time for Dante to spend with the boy. He’s taken for granted how attached Nero seems to be to him. Taken it for granted and now that Nero is breaking off, he realises how important that time has been to him.

On the fourth day, Nero hangs around somewhat awkwardly after the final bell. “Um,” he starts, rubbing at his nose with his index finger, “Can I come over today?”

Dante looks at him for a moment, “You don’t have to ask, kiddo. You’re welcome anytime.”

Nero sighs like he was worried Dante would deny him. As if he even could at this point.

So they head to Dante’s home. Order their ritualistic pizza (Dante gets two now, one with olives for Nero and one with pretty much everything else for himself), sit down on the couch to hang out, Nero pulls out his sketchbook, it’s all very normal.

Until Nero brings up the reason he wanted to come over.

Nero’s spends several minutes staring at his sketchbook but not moving his pencil over the page. Dante tries not to notice, figuring he’s just blocked or something.

“How do you kiss?”

Dante’s heart kicks into overdrive, pounding much harder than it has any right to. “Where did that come from?”

Nero’s cheeks darken (again with the blushing, cute) and he taps his pencil quickly against the page, “I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

At this, Dante raises a brow. He’s surprised. Especially considering the last few days of “dating” Nero has been doing. How hasn’t he kissed someone before? “Don’t worry too much about it, kid. It’s easy.”

“Then show me.”

This time, Dante’s heart stops.

Where did this come from? Is Nero seriously asking for this, for exactly what Dante’s been longing to do for months now?

Apparently he takes too long staring at him in shocked silence because Nero speaks again, this time with more confidence, “Kiss me.”

Dante sighs, “Nero… I can’t do that.”

Nero sets his sketchbook aside and scooches closer and leans toward Dante and it’s _torture_ because he can feel him and he can smell him and he’s so close and so willing and _god_ he should get an award for holding back. “You’re my teacher, so teach me. Teach me how to kiss.”

He’s so close. He’s so fucking close to just saying fuck it. Nero’s right there and he’s willing and open and _asking_ for it. And it would be so easy for Dante to just lean forward, put his hand on the side of Nero’s neck, and press his lips to the younger’s. Gently introduce to him how he should open his mouth and help him understand how nice it can be. Teach him how great a kiss can be. Run a hand through his hair and feel his shiver, move his mouth to kiss down his throat while one hand finds the hem of his shirt and teases the skin just beneath it…

No.

“Nero…”

For a moment, Nero leans closer and Dante is terrified and also hopeful that Nero is going to just lean in and kiss him anyway. But he pulls away just as quick and picks up his sketchbook again, “Fine.”

Dante feels like he’s done something wrong. Like Nero is being cold toward him and he’s ruined something irreparable. But he feels that it would be worse had he given in. For many reasons.

Several minutes later, they return to more or less normal interaction, but Dante’s mind stays focused on that event. He can’t shake the thought of kissing Nero. Can’t shake the thought of doing much more than that. He keeps seeing it in his mind, the way Nero would shiver when he touches him just right and gasp when he finds something that feels particularly good. The way Nero would bite at him again, but this time for pleasure rather than safety and comfort.

The night goes on and Dante suffers. He suffers in silence and in subtle shifting to try to keep himself under control and not obvious that he’s sporting a halfie next to his _underage student_. _About_ his underage student.

It’s almost a relief when Nero has to leave.

He’s fallen asleep on the couch again, one leg resting across Dante’s lap and the other hanging off the couch. It’s a common occurrence and Dante lets him stay there until approaching midnight usually. But never over night. That’s too far. Too far for them, too far for Dante to be able to maintain control.

Dante gently moves Nero’s leg aside and leans over to shake his shoulder, wishing he could use a different method to wake him up. “Hey, kiddo, it’s pretty late.”

Nero wakes slowly. He always does. It’s always the same. Mumbled nonsense, shifting and attempting to pull a blanket over himself, groaning, more mumbling, and finally blinking and the several moments it takes him to realise where he is and what’s going on.

“Time to get up, gotta get you home.”

He’s slow, like moving through molasses. His fists come up to rub at his eyes as he pulls his legs under him, struggling to get himself awake enough to stand and gather his things.

Dante excuses himself until Nero gets himself together. Mostly to get himself away from his temptations, but also because he really needs to piss. By the time he returns, Nero is ready and swaying with his exhaustion. He’s adorable.

Dante is so fucked.

\--

The weekend comes and Dante sighs into his couch.

Which still smells like Nero.

Another sigh, this time exasperated. What is he supposed to do about this. This school boy level _crush_ he’s developed. And he can’t even realistically talk to Trish about it. Even though he’s sure she’s figured him out. From the few times they talk any more now that Nero occupies all his time. She’s too smart to be friends with him, to be perfectly honest. Her and Lady both.

He hasn’t seen them together in a while. He should fix that.

But right now, he’s really hell bent on spending some alone time with his hand and getting rid of some of this pent up sexual energy he seems to have developed. So he kicks back his legs, sinks into the couch and slides his zipper down. Low effort getting off, no undressing needed.

Generally, Dante doesn’t spend too much time when he gets himself off. It’s mostly just to blow off steam. So he’s not careful about whipping his dick out and fisting it. He’s rough and messy about it, just trying to get it done and over with as fast as possible so he can be done and move on to something more productive.

Like lunch.

He would just rather have someone else helping him out rather than having to take care of himself. Alone.

But when he gets it going, and his thumb runs over the head of his cock in that way that gets him gasping, he kind of loses himself. He leans back farther, sinking deeper into the cushions of the couch, and his head falls to the side.

And Nero’s scent surrounds him.

His mind conjures up the image of the boy. He can practically feel the weight of him between his legs, his hands pressed into his thighs. Nero kneels there, nuzzles his thigh before looking up at him and wrapping his pretty little lips around Dante’s cock.

It’s incredible, Dante can practically feel the wetness of his mouth. The way he slides down and how warm it is in his throat. His eyes squeeze shut as he gets lost in his fantasy. In his mind’s eye, Nero’s moaning around him and picking up his pace, swallowing every now and then, and it’s _heaven_.

Dante’s hand squeezes just a bit harder as he imagines Nero swallowing again. And that does him in. The orgasm is almost a surprise, it comes on so fast. Fast and fucking _hard_. He moans low, loud, and long as warm come spills over his hand.

Probably somewhere around thirty seconds pass in which Dante just lays in his post orgasmic bliss. And then he realises what he’s done.

He just came to the thought of his _underage student_ sucking him off.

He opens his eyes and glances down at the mess. One. Two seconds.

_Well, I can’t un-come_.

And with that brilliant justification for his shameful actions, he gets up to go clean himself up.

\--

Dante underestimated how horrifically awkward it would be to see Nero again on Monday. The whole morning goes by without a problem or even a thought toward his weekend activities until fourth period.

And then Nero walks in.

Dante thinks his face _might_ even get red. He just remembers the way he had imagined the boy in such a compromising position, remembers how he had felt as he worked himself to, admittedly, one of the best orgasms of his life. And it’s worse when Nero smiles at him as he sits down, so sweet and innocent and exactly the same way he had looked in Dante’s head right before going down on him.

He is a dirty, perverted man and he has a very serious problem.

He spends the rest of the day trying very hard to dodge Nero’s strange looks and questions after his well-being. It’s nice to know he cares, but the more he asks, the harder it is to hide the way he can’t look at Nero in the eyes and the fact that he has to shift every five seconds to keep from sporting the worst hardon in history.

\--

Sometime in late January, Nero is sitting on Dante’s couch, as he tends to do. He’s got his legs stretched out and vying against Dante’s own legs for the central space on the couch. As usual, he’s got a sketchbook in hand (a new one, Dante’s bought him two since the first one, kid goes through them like crazy), and he’s sketching away. Based on the way he keeps glancing up at Dante, he assumes he’s the subject yet again.

He finds himself leaning forward, subconsciously trying to peer over the top of the sketchbook and check on Nero’s progress. Even though that is impossible from his position.

Then he gets an idea. “Teach me how to do that.”

Nero looks up from his drawing, paused mid stroke, “What?”

“Teach me,” Dante repeats.

“Teach you what?”

He gestures toward Nero, “That. Drawing. Teach me how to do that.”

Nero looks at him like he’s crazy. “I can’t- I don’t know how to teach… anything.”

Dante swings his feet off the couch and scoots closer over next to Nero. He pulls down Nero’s sketchbook to peek at the drawing he’s working on. He was right, it’s him. Flattering. “Eh, don’t sweat it, I’ll be a great student. Just show me what to do, tell me your process.”

Again, Nero looks at him like he’s insane. He pulls his knees in closer to his body and tries to pull back his sketchbook. “There’s nothing to teach. You just… do it. I don’t know what you want me to tell you.”

He slides a little closer again, really injecting himself into Nero’s personal space. “C’mon, kiddo. Help me out some. Give me some paper and tell me what to do.”

Nero gives him an odd look, but sighs and tears a page out of his sketchbook. He pushes his pencil into Dante’s chest where Dante takes it from him. The elder repositions himself so he can sit more comfortably next to Nero and readies himself with the pencil against the paper. He looks over to the boy, “Ok, now what.”

He gets a withering looks from Nero before he sighs and looks around the room, “Uh, just pick something. Like…” he looks around, struggling to find something to suggest, “Like that lamp over there. Just… draw what you see. Try to match the shape first.”

Dante grins, then starts trying to draw the lamp. He starts out sort of carefree, just drawing lines and not really caring much about it. But he finds himself sinking into it, getting lost in the process. He finds himself constantly erasing and redrawing lines, trying to fix his mistakes. Occasionally, Nero will point out something for him to try to fix, but mostly he just watches. Watches and waits while Dante tries to draw this ugly lamp he doesn’t even like.

Some time later, Dante stops, wipes bits of eraser from the page, and looks over at Nero. “Ok, I think I’m done.”

And then he looks down.

It’s… Not what he expected, to be sure. It looks… vaguely like the lamp. It’s ugly, like the lamp. And he supposes you can tell it’s a lamp. Mostly. But it’s certainly no Michaelangelo. Picasso maybe.

Dante can feel Nero trying to hold back snickering from how close they’re sitting. He puts his hands casually over the page, trying to subtly cover the image, “I don’t think I’m cut out for this creative stuff.”

Nero raises an eyebrow at him and he can’t keep back his quiet chuckling, “It’s nice to know you aren’t good at everything.”

“I never said I was!” He might have said exactly that. On more than one occasion. Probably.

This time, Nero actually laughs. He carefully reaches over and tries to pull the page from Dante’s hands. After a small struggle, Dante relinquishes the miserable drawing for Nero to take. “Oh, I’m definitely keeping this. Maybe I’ll show it to Miss Trish.”

Dante scoffs, “Yeah, if you can look at her for more than about three seconds.”

There it is. Nero blushes red and hard. Kid can’t look at an attractive lady without burning red and stuttering, looking away and avoiding eye contact. Or looking at her at all. Dante is about 75% sure this is because he’s queer as fuck, but the kid doesn’t know it, or at least hasn’t admitted it yet.

Nero’s shoulder comes in contact with Dante’s, a little shove. It’s almost flirtatious. And Dante hates himself for thinking so. “Yo, kid? How are things with you and that one girl?”

Dante looks over at Nero with a serious expression and Nero looks down at his lap. “Didn’t work out.”

He has to suppress his sigh of relief, “Why’s that?”

Nero curls up into the corner of the couch, “I…” He trails off and his brow furrows in what Dante takes as frustration. Then, he glances nervously at Dante before turning his head away and speaking very quietly and muffled, so Dante has to strain to make out what is said, “I don’t think I like girls…”

He’s so quiet and so muffled. Dante nearly doesn’t catch the words. But he manages. “And what is it that makes you think that?” He’s a teacher at heart, asking questions until the student comes to a conclusion, even when he’s the one in the dark.

Nero’s head whips around to face him, “I- but- you’re not mad?”

“Why in the hell would I be mad?” Dante bursts out a bit louder than he intends. Ebony picks up her head and looks at him with a tiny whine, as if concerned after why he’s practically yelling. He takes a breath then, quieter, “Nero, I don’t give a shit who you want to bang.” A partial lie, he cares a little, “Man, woman, or anything in between, it’s your choice and who you love or sleep with is your decision. Yours alone.” He puts a hand on Nero’s shoulder, “Plus, I’m pan as fuck, dicks are great.”

He gets an almost forced half laugh at that at least. “It’s not… I _like_ girls. I just… don’t want to _do_ anything with them. They’re nice, and pretty, and cute. But I…” he trails off again.

Dante listens with rapt attention. He may not be the best at giving advice, but he sure as hell can listen. And he understands sexuality. “First of all, if you don’t want to, you are under no obligation to label yourself. But if you do want to find a label that fits, know that it is entirely possible to have completely separate romantic and sexual orientations. You can want to only bang people of one sex, but get the mushy gushy feelings for those of another sex. They aren’t mutually exclusive.”

Nero stares on with wide eyes throughout the explanation. He blinks hard when Dante finishes, “Then what does all of this mean for me?”

“Well,” Dante’s hand on Nero’s shoulder slides around him and rubs his arm, “It sounds to me like you might be hetero or bi romantic, but homosexual. You’re cool with being all mushy with ladies, but you’d rather bang someone with a dick. Am I hitting the mark?”

A nod. Then Nero leans into Dante and practically nuzzles him. Dante’s heart skips several beats and he squeezes the boy’s arm, pulling him in closer. They stay quiet, just sit there with Nero lent into Dante and Dante holding him close and trying to keep him safe.

Dante wishes it could last forever.


	6. Breaking Boundaries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He can always tell when he's trying to hide something.

Dante likes being around Nero.

He’s gotten used to all his little quirks. The way his sticks his tongue out when he draws, how he sighs when he’s really comfortable, the way he smiles when Dante says something funny.

He also has become very familiar with the signs that say he’s in pain.

The way he clenches his jaw. Favours anything that’s injured. Hisses quietly if he accidentally bumps a bruise. The way his eyes cloud over when a wave of pain hits him.

Dante knows it all. He recognises all of it. Can see even the tiniest sign. Can tell when Nero is hiding something and when he wants to cry.

So when Nero comes into class a few days after Valentine’s Day and sits down gingerly, Dante knows something is up. About ten minutes into class he’s worked out Nero is in pain in a lot of places, but it’s his arm that’s really bothering him. Worse, yet, his left arm, the one he uses to write. And draw. He spends the remainder of class worried about him and trying to come up with activities that don’t require the students to write anything.

He ends up just lecturing for the class. Picking a story about the industrial revolution and devolving into a conversation about Frankenstein. It really is a wonder his students learn anything in his class.

Finally, the bell rings. Students filter out with the impressive speeds of teenagers ready for the freedom of lunch period. Nero hangs behind, as he usually does, but he still tries to get up. Probably to move to his closer desk. Dante stops him before he can get out of the desk, “Hey there, kiddo. Not so fast. Sit back down.”

Nero obeys, clenching his teeth again as he settles back into the seat.

“Now, you gonna tell me what hurts?”

“I’m fine,” he scowls, teeth clenching again.

Dante moves from where he’s leaning against the wall and walks over to Nero and gently pokes his left arm. Nero hisses and recoils, causing his whole face to twist with pain, “You telling me that’s fine?”

Nero glares at his teacher but doesn’t respond. Dante knows it’s because he’s right. He kneels down next to the desk and reaches out for Nero’s hand, “You gonna tell me what happened?”

He’s not surprised when Nero pulls his hand away and looks at the floor with a frown. He’s a private person. And even with all of the trust between them, he still has trouble opening up. But Dante knows he will. He just needs time. Time and support, which Dante has in spades.

Several minutes later, Nero finally deflates. He lets out a long tired breath, then winces. “Mom.” And that’s all he has to say. Dante knows what it means. Knows Nero ended up on the wrong side of her rage again. A place he should never have to be. Dante’s about to ask something more when Nero speaks again, “Think it’s broken.”

Dante reaches for Nero’s hand again and mumbles under his breath, “Let me see, baby.” He leans over to inspect the arm while Nero winces, “Nero, you need to go to a hospital. This isn’t the kind of thing that will just heal on its own.”

“Can’t. Mom won’t let me. Plus, no insurance.”

That’s not ok. He’s sure the primary motivation in banning the boy from the hospital is because they’ll suspect domestic abuse, which Nero is still adamant against reporting. But this is about Nero’s health and safety. He could be permanently disfigured, lose the use of his arm. _His drawing arm._

“Then I’ll take you.”

He’s not taking no for an answer. He stands, going over to collect his things and write up a pass. By the time he’s finished, Nero hasn’t moved. Only turned to stare at Dante in confusion. “Well, come on, kid. We’ve gotta go.”

“Now? I have class. I can’t afford the hospital. I can’t-”

“We’ll just say you’re my nephew or something, use my insurance. Say you fell off a tree or you were playing a sport or something. I don’t care what lie you tell them, honestly. But you need to go.”

Nero looks like he’s about to protest, but sighs in resignation before grabbing his things. Dante leads him to the front office, very reminiscent of that first day of school, so long ago. Only this time, he’s taking the rest of the day off as well. It takes some clever wording to keep suspicion low on why a teacher is leaving with a student, but Dante manages. And once they’ve left the building, Dante helps Nero into his car and drives off toward the hospital.

They manage to get Nero checked into the emergency room shortly after arriving. With an injury like a broken arm, one would think he’d be seen pretty quickly, but no. It takes hours before they even see a doctor. And several more before they start doing much of anything to help Nero. Turns out they have to rebreak it to set the bone properly. Dante isn’t too surprised about that, considering all Nero had been trying to do before even telling anyone it was broken. On top of not knowing exactly when the break happened. It was probably the night before, Nero probably slept with it like that. Or didn’t, considering how much pain he must have been in.

It’s passed midnight before they’re finally discharged. Dante handled Nero’s bills, wouldn’t even let them tell Nero how much it cost. Dante’s just glad Nero’s going to be alright, with his cast and pain pill prescriptions in hand.

But Dante is done skirting around the issue and standing by doing nothing.

He drives Nero back to his house and tells him to pack his shit. At least enough for a few days, they could come back for more later if he needs it. But Dante is adamant that Nero should stay with him while his arm heals. Just till his arm heals, so he’s away from the problem and it doesn’t become an even bigger problem.

That’s what he tells himself.

When Nero is back in the car, he drives kind of slowly. Very slowly, for him. He wants to be sure that the potholes don’t jostle Nero too much, but it’s also just that something about the night makes him feel like he should slow down a bit.

Still, Dante doesn’t live all that far away. It takes about five minutes before he’s pulling into his garage again and looking over at Nero in the dark of the car. “I’ll get your stuff, go ahead and lay down in the guest room.” Dante throws keys to turn off the car and goes around to take Nero’s stuff from him. Nero is sluggish and slow as he follows Dante into the house. Dante holds the door open for him, then goes to set his stuff down. He expects Nero to continue on into the house, toward the guest room as he’d instructed. But he doesn’t. He stays extremely close to Dante, following on his heels everywhere he goes. “Kiddo, go lay down. I have to go feed the mutts, I’ll be right back up.”

“Don’t leave me…” Nero sounds so small as he reaches out with his right hand to stop Dante from leaving the kitchen.

Dante turns back to him and leans down against him, his forehead against Nero’s. “Hey. You are safe here. No one can hurt you here. Anyone tries to get anywhere near this house and they have to get through me and the dogs before they’ll get anywhere near you. I’ve got you.”

Nero sags against Dante’s hold, his face getting closer and almost too close, “I don’t want to be alone.”

He pulls his head back only so he can kiss Nero’s hair, “Then come with me. We’ll feed the dogs then put you to bed.”

Nero nods, right hand still gripping Dante’s sleeve. So he leads him carefully down to the basement and out into the backyard. The dogs pounce against the fence and whine, “I know, girls. It’s late. We’ll get you some food. But no jumping.”

Dante opens the kennel door. The dogs bolt out and circle him like vultures as he tries to get them some food. He’s just glad they don’t go after Nero, standing a few feet back. Once they’re both happily inhaling their food, Dante rejoins Nero and leads him back up the stairs. “I’ll go grab your stuff. Guest room is free.”

Dante leaves Nero in the hallway while he goes back to the kitchen to collect Nero’s bags. He can hear Nero shuffle down the hall, and goes back to rejoin him in the bedroom.

Only, when he turns right into the guest room at the end of the hall, Nero isn’t there. “Nero?” He hears an answering noise from behind him, an almost whimper. Dante spins around to peer into his own bedroom across the hall, and that’s where he finds the boy, curled up into a fetal position on his right side. “Hey, kiddo. What are you doing in here? You know this is my room.”

Nero curls tighter into his little ball and holds his cast against his chest. He mumbles something, but he’s too far away and facing away, so Dante doesn’t catch it. So, he approaches the bed and sits down next to the boy. “Nero. Do you want to sleep in here then?” A nod. “Alright, let’s get this blanket over you then. I’ll bring your stuff in.”

After Nero gives another nod, Dante starts peeling the blankets back and trying to get them out from under Nero. He finally manages to get the boy covered sufficiently, then goes back to the other room to retrieve the bags. He goes back to his room and puts the bags down in the corner. “I’m putting them here, let me know if you need anything.”

“Dante?” His voice is so tiny and scared, like a child. It’s so different from the defensive way he spoke in the class so many hours ago and the tough way he acted at the hospital. Dante’s heart shatters a little more.

“Yeah, kiddo?” He steps back to where he’d been sitting before, close by Nero, and reaches out to stroke his hair.

“Stay?”

The request shocks Dante. It shouldn’t, but it does. His eyes widen and his body tenses, but he tries to keep his hand going in Nero’s hair to hide his reaction, “Nero…”

Nero’s head turns enough to actually look at Dante, “I know it’s not ethical or whatever. But I can’t be alone. I can’t- I just can’t.” With each word, his panic increases. It’s obvious that there is more to it than just that, that Nero is scared of something deeper than just being alone. But Dante won’t ask.

“Ok. Let me go change, I’ll be right in the bathroom, right through that door.” Nero nods and Dante leaves him again with a final stroke through his hair. He tosses on a loose pair of flannel pants and, after some debate, decides to throw on an old band shirt. As he emerges from the bathroom, he realises Nero never changed. “Yo, Nero. You want to put on something else to sleep in? Jeans can’t be comfortable.”

He’s facing away from the bathroom door, but he still shakes his head at the question. Dante sighs, “Whatever you say, kid.” He climbs into the bed behind Nero after grabbing an extra blanket from a chest in the room, which he spreads over himself to form a kind of barrier between them. If Nero asks, it’s to maintain some level ethics. But really, it’s for himself. He needs to maintain this distance or he is sure he will do something he regrets.

His movements on the bed are tense and he attempts to be as gentle as possible. He doesn’t want to jostle Nero any more than necessary. Finally, he settles into a halfway comfortable position right as the dogs find their way upstairs and into the room. Eb jumps up onto the bed, finds someone in her spot and looks at Dante with what he swears is betrayal. “Oh, suck it up, princess. Take the floor tonight.” She whines, but does as he says and hops off the bed to find a different place to sleep. Dante’s pretty sure he sees the both of them go over to the guest room. Well, at least someone will use the room tonight.

Dante’s nearly managed to lull himself to sleep (Nero’s scent and warm body is a surprising good comfort next to him in the bed) when he hears a very distressed whine. At first, he thinks it’s one of the dogs, and almost ignores it. But when he hears the sound again, he realises it’s too close to be the dogs.

He rolls onto his side to face the boy lying next to him and reaches out a tentative hand, “Nero?” Another whimper, but no real response. Dante is pretty sure he’s asleep. Maybe a nightmare. He hesitates again, waging an internal battle over whether or not he should touch the boy. Whether he should wake him up or just try soothing him in his sleep. Does he have the right to soothe him at all? Is it even remotely ethical?

Well, fuck it, he’s already crossed a few lines tonight, this one mostly innocent addition won’t hurt.

His hand finally makes contact with Nero’s upper arm and gently runs up and down. He can feel him shaking now. When it doesn’t stop, he goes up to pet his hair again, but before he gets there, Nero sniffles and Dante pauses. Ever so gently, he changes course and his fingers brush Nero’s cheek and he can feel the wetness there.

“Oh, Nero. Baby…” he whispers. His fingers stroke the boy’s cheek as he scoots a bit closer. Close enough that were there not two layers of blankets between them, his chest would be flush against Nero’s back.

Suddenly, Dante feels fingers with a near death grip on his arm. He stops his movements, terrified Nero has woken up and does not appreciate the way he’s being touched by his teacher of all people. Dante’s mind races to come up with some kind of explanation. But as he’s settling on something that almost doesn’t sound entirely creepy, Nero hugs Dante’s arm to his chest and sighs. His mouth finds Dante’s wrist and bites down gently, just like that day when Dante found him by the creek. Nero’s breathing is regular now and the shaking and whimpering has stopped.

Dante has no hope to extricate himself from the boy’s clutches, and he’s almost certain that trying would result in Nero’s nightmares returning. Possibly worse. Plus, he doesn’t really want to pull away. He finds he quite enjoys Nero’s little biting habit, though he wouldn’t admit that for a second. He also enjoys the fact that he’s able to calm Nero down, keep whatever was bothering him away. And this position is much more comfortable. His eyes sag quickly.

But then he thinks about it.

This is a terribly compromising position for him. Laying here, even with the layers of blankets between them, Dante is effectively spooning his seventeen-year-old student. He has this boy in his home, in his bed, in his arms. There is no explaining this away. There is no convincing another human being that this is entirely innocent. Especially because it really isn’t. It might be on Nero’s part, a scared child who just needs a connection. A boy that just needs something to hold onto and ground himself, just needs a safe place against the Hell of his home.

But Dante is not so innocent. He’s been in love with this boy for months. He hides it well, at least he thinks it does. But if you know what you’re looking for, it’s not hard to tell. Just takes someone that looks at him a little bit more carefully when he looks at Nero, or when Nero makes him laugh, or notices the frequency with which he glances around his classroom now decorated liberally with Nero’s art. Hell, he’s fucking positive Trish has more than a good idea of how he feels. Probably knew before he did, honestly.

So if this were to get out, the way they’re lying. Or even just the fact that Nero spends so much time here, especially Nero spending a night here. If this got out- he’d be fired, incarcerated. Nero would become even more of a pariah, and it would be near guaranteed no one would listen if he told someone about the abuse he suffers. It would be seen as an excuse to be near Dante, a desire born from Dante’s abuse of his authority position.

None of that is remotely true, but that’s what people will think. Even police. He’ll be marked as a victim of Dante’s abuse and the community will want nothing to do with him. He’ll be forced to spend more time at the home that has hurt him so much. Less time out and away from danger. Even the people he has as friends will likely disown him.

Dante doesn’t want that. He loves Nero. Cares so deeply for him. He just wants him safe and happy. Away from the suffering inflicted by his parents, successful with his art, and healthy. Everything someone as wonderful as Nero deserves. He doesn’t want to cause him more pain. But he literally can’t stay away from the kid. Not that Nero would let him. Alienating him would be worse. The relationship they’ve built is so important to him. It’s keeping him out of his house more, it’s teaching him that he can do something with his life, be something, make himself happy. Dante wouldn’t dare take that away either.

So he doesn’t sleep.

His eyes stay wide open for the rest of the night. He simply watches Nero sleep, gnawing at Dante’s wrist. Sometime in the night, his jaw relaxes and moments later he’s latched on again, this time on Dante’s thumb. Dante can’t keep himself from smiling despite his inner torment. The kid is just too adorable. Too cute. And sleeping peacefully, it’s probably a change of pace for Nero, as much as Dante hates to think about that. He’s glad he can provide this respite.

The night is long and Dante still doesn’t sleep. When the sun peaks through the windows and into the east side of the house, Dante sighs. Teaching on no sleep isn’t entirely foreign to him, but he hates it. But he’ll do it for Nero.

It’s six in the morning when he starts to pull himself away from the boy. His jaw is slack enough he can work his thumb out of his mouth and his grip light enough he can pull back his arm. He almost leaves, just gets up and walks out of the room. But then he realises that Nero might wake up alone and confused, not remembering where he is or why and scared about being alone. So, instead, he shakes Nero’s shoulder, “Hey, kid. I’m gonna grab a shower. There’s school today.”

Nero mumbles and again Dante debates just getting up. But he wants to make absolute sure he’s going to be ok alone for a bit. And that he knows where he is. So another shake to his shoulder, “Come on, baby. D’you know where you are?” He needs to stop letting that little pet name slip. One of these times, Nero is going to realise the implications.

It takes several minutes for Nero to blink into awareness, and as Dante thought, his first reaction is panic. But it’s short lived, when he sees Dante and finds him still lying close. He’s glad he didn’t leave. “Wha’ ‘appen’d?”

Dante lets himself smile a bit, Nero is just so goddamn adorable all the time and this can’t be fair. “You broke your arm, remember that? Took you to the hospital, then you climbed into my bed like a lost puppy and wouldn’t let me leave. Sound familiar?”

Nero blinks heavily a few more times and reaches up with his good arm to use his fist to rub at his eyes. “Mmm.”

Dante chuckles, “You gonna be alright here while I hop in the shower? If you get hungry, you know where everything is. Help yourself.” He gets a nod just before Nero slips off back to sleep and hopes the kid will be alright.

He escapes to the quiet of the bathroom, shedding clothing and starting the water running. He steps under the blast before the water has really gotten warm, but that’s probably for the best. Cold showers might be a necessary evil. _Are_ a necessary evil, as he looks down. He keeps his shower short, and it’s some combination of wanting to get back to Nero to keep him safe and some selfish sense of needing to be near the boy.

Just as he’s getting a towel wrapped around his waist, the door to the bathroom opens and Dante panics. It’s Nero, which is no surprise, but that doesn’t help the state of his pounding heart. “Jesus, kid, heard of knocking?”

Nero shrinks a bit and his cheeks are dusted a slight pink, “Sorry, I just- I need help washing my hair.”

Dante sighs, hands finding the counter to ground himself, “Yeah, no problem. Let me just… get dressed.” Nero nods sheepishly and retreats back into the bedroom, and hopefully farther than that so Dante doesn’t feel so guilty walking out into the room with only a towel wrapped around his waist. His potential sexual harassment charges are just being added to a mental list that are going to get him in some deep shit one of these days. He can’t imagine this _won’t_ catch up with him.

Fortunately, when he peeks out into his bedroom, Nero seems to have vacated the area. So he steps out and checks that the door is securely closed before letting the towel fall and finding something remotely school appropriate to wear. When he’s done, he comes out of the room toweling at his hair to find where Nero’s run off to.

He finds the teen sitting on the couch just… waiting. When Dante comes into the living room, Nero looks over at him, “I fed the dogs. They seemed hungry.”

“I- thanks, kiddo. You didn’t have to do that.” Dante reaches down to ruffle Nero’s hair then looks at his hand in mock disgust, “You’re right, you’re disgusting, let’s get this mop washed up, eh?”

Nero glares, but Dante can see it’s halfhearted. It’s just how they banter. And he’s relieved to see that hasn’t changed despite the last several hours. He smiles and motions for Nero to follow him into the other bathroom. The one with a shower tub and detachable showerhead that will make washing his hair and keeping his cast from getting wet much easier. “Come on, short stuff, stick your head in. Hope you don’t mind strawberry.”

Once Nero’s leaned into the shower, Dante turns on the water and waits for it to get warm before rinsing his hair. “Good temperature?” Nero gives a noncommittal sound that Dante takes as an affirmative. So he keeps going, wetting Nero’s hair, then working a lather of strawberry shampoo into it. He tries to be gentle, tries not to pull and massages his scalp with care. When he’s finished he puts a towel over the back of Nero’s head, “All set. You think you can handle school today?”

Nero nods, “I’m fine.”

Dante gives him a look, “You’re not _fine_ , Nero. Your mother broke your arm. But if you’re willing, I’m not going to stop you from going to school. I will stop you from going home though. You can’t go back there. You need to report them. I should have months ago, but you said no, so I didn’t. But you _need_ to, Nero. This isn’t ok.”

The boy’s eyes flash with anger, “No! I can’t, Dante. I can’t do it. No one is going to believe me and it will just get worse. I can’t do it.”

“Nero…”

“No. I can’t talk about this right now. Just drop it. I’m fine. I can go to school today.”

Dante’s eyes are worried and he doesn’t want to drop it. He wants Nero to understand how terribly important it is to report this, to get those people locked away for a very long time. He needs him to know that if he doesn’t, Dante is very likely to do something very wrong and very illegal. Like use lethal force. But he doesn’t say anything, just sighs and turns to grab something to eat and finish getting ready for the day.


	7. Holding Fast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes it's pointless to hold back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been informed that the age of consent in Michigan is actually 16 which for all my years living there I did not know. But shhhh, it's 18 in this story cuz I said so.

The minute Trish sees Dante the next day, she knows something is up. “Alright, what did you do that kept you up all night?”

“Who said I was up all night,” he retorts.

She gives him the most unimpressed look, “Dante, I’ve known you for years, I can tell when you’re running on no sleep. You haven’t slept, so tell me why.”

Dante sighs and sits down next to her, “Fine, but you can’t tell anyone because I will get in so much trouble.” He waits until she nods before continuing, “Took Nero to the hospital last night. Then he slept over.”

She’s quiet for a very long time. He can’t read the look on her face, never could. And it’s again one of those moments where she reminds him _so much_ of his mother. It’s the same look she would wear when she was thinking over something particularly difficult.

“Dante… What happened?”

“Nothing illegal.” Yet. “Although, I’m toeing some real thin lines. Trish, I can’t stay away from him. And I can’t let him go back to that house.”

Trish comes over to sit down next to Dante, “You have to be so careful, Dante. This could get you fired, thrown in jail. He’s your student. And he’s underage. If anyone gets wind of this, it’s exactly what the board is looking for to get you out. Bonus if they can get you in jail. They don’t like you, Dante. It’s a wonder you still have a job. Now, I can see you care about this boy, and I can see why. He’s a good kid and no one deserves what’s happening to him. And I’ll cover for you as best I can if anyone starts asking questions. But you have got to be damn careful. Don’t you dare sleep with him.”

Dante shoots her a withering glare, “As admittedly appealing as the idea is, he’s still a kid and still my student. I won’t cross that line.” After graduation is another story. If Nero doesn’t hate his guts and returns even an inkling of the feelings he has for him. “Plus, he’ll be eighteen in two months, then it’s a little less frowned upon that he’s essentially living with me.”

For a moment, Dante is sure Trish is going to chastise him, tell him he can’t have Nero stay with him. It’ll be too dangerous, too hard to keep this quiet while keeping him safe with Dante. But she just sighs and put a hand on his back, “Be careful, Dante. And keep that boy safe.”

Dante gives her a solemn nod before getting up and going to his classroom to start the day.

\--

The illusion Dante has tried to maintain that Nero isn’t a more or less permanent addition to his household dissolves about three days later. It’s almost too easy for Nero to say the word home when referring to Dante’s house. It takes mere moments for the guest room to become Nero’s room. A few days in and Nero’s got a little set up in the second bedroom-turned-escape with some of his art supplies. They spend a lot of time in there, with Dante kicking back a beer and playing some mindless rock on the jukebox while Nero draws. Somewhere along the line, Dante bought Nero some paints to mess around with, so sometimes he sits in there trying them out, playing with colours and doing some of the most stunning work Dante has ever seen.

But that was the easy part. The hard part is the way Dante always finds himself a little too close to Nero. When they sit on the couch, when he wakes up in the middle of the night from nightmares and crawls into Dante’s bed, when Nero shows Dante a finished piece and they lean in a little too close. There have been so many close calls. So many times Dante has almost closed that distance between them.

He just wants to hold Nero, finds it hard not to touch him in some way. A hand on his shoulder, in his hair. Just some kind of physical contact. Just being close. He loves this boy. He loves him so much. It’s physically impossible for him to not be near him. For him not to care.

One night, they’re lounging on the couch with the television for background noise, pressed up next to each other in a way that is definitely less than appropriate for a teacher and his student, but they seem to have gotten passed that.

“I’ve never had a hickey.”

Where the fuck did that come from? Dante looks over at Nero with a raised brow, “Shame. Though, to be fair, before a few months ago, you’d never kissed anyone either. Not really that surprised.”

Nero frowns but then his lips twist into this coy little smile and Dante just knows it means trouble. He takes a swig from his glass of whiskey in preparation. “Can you give me one?”

And promptly chokes on that whiskey.

“Nero!” he exclaims. He doesn’t know what else to say. Mostly because he _wants_ to. He wants to mark this boy and let the world see it. Wants to claim him.

“What? I’ve never had one, give me one.”

“You _know_ I can’t do that,” Dante chokes out. It is so fucking hard to deny this boy. Deny him something Dante has been desperately craving himself for _months_.

“What? Why?” Nero’s stupid little coy smile that’s so _goddamn cute_ just keeps getting wider the whole time.

Dante struggles to come up with something but the blood is pounding in his head and his heart is racing. “I- it’s _illegal_ for one thing.”

“Do I have to bribe you with a blow job?”

He nearly spits. Would have, if the glass of whiskey had been only slightly closer to his lips. “NERO!”

Nero grins wide and chuckles, then settles back into the couch, “Just saying.”

Dante has to force himself to breathe. Has to keep himself calm and hope the pounding of his heart can’t be heard by Nero sitting directly next to him. It takes a long time of concentrating on nothing but his breathing to calm down enough to be able to pay attention to the television and the room around him.

A few minutes after he’s calmed down, Nero speak again. But this time, his voice sounds serious and his lips are turned down in what Dante has come to know as something that signifies he’s nervous about what he’s about to say. “Dante?”

Because of the complete change in attitude, in tone, and in look, Dante looks back at Nero with a serious expression, “Yeah, kiddo?”

“I- what if I said I wanted to do something… illegal.”

Dante examines Nero carefully. This could go just about anywhere. “Depends on what you mean by illegal. Downloading music is illegal, but people do that every day. Killing someone, I’d have to stop you.”

Nero ignores Dante’s gentle poking fun, but Dante isn’t perturbed. He tries to add humour where he can, and sometimes it just doesn’t work. A lot of times, actually. “I… I think I might like someone. A lot.”

Dante’s heart sinks. Not exactly a problem of illegality, but it’s devastating to hear. “And who might that be? And what does that have to do with doing something illegal?”

His face goes cherry red. Possibly the reddest Dante has ever seen it. And while it’s still cute, it’s also a bit worrying. Nero mutters something and Dante can’t make it out.

“What was that, kiddo? Didn’t catch that.”

Nero’s face twists into a frustrated frown. He huffs a breath and looks like he has trouble for a moment. What exactly is going on in his head is a mystery to Dante, but it looks like he’s waging some kind of war. “Ilikeyou.”

This time, Dante hears. But he can’t believe what it is he hears. It’s garbled and more like one word rather than three. And yet Dante is pretty sure he’s right about what he’s heard. Can’t believe it, but he’s pretty sure he’s right. “Nero… I. I don’t want to take advantage of you. Are you sure about this?”

Finally, the boy looks him in the eye. His eyes are full of fiery passion and intensity. “You’re not- I _like_ you. Me. _I_ like _you_. How could you be taking advantage of me?”

Dante sighs. It’s so hard. So hard to not just lean over and kiss him. To not just pull him close and whisper that he loves him. “Nero, I’m your teacher. You’re underage. I’m in a position of power over you. An authority figure. It happens all the time that kids get crushes on their teachers.”

The way Nero gets angry and the hurt he can see in his eyes _devastates_ Dante. He can tell that this is more than some schoolboy crush. And he knows. But he needs to be sure, needs Nero to be sure that this is real. Because he can’t take advantage of this boy.

Nero scoffs, “This isn’t some crush. It’s been… I’ve felt like this for a while. You’re the only one that cares. You… you gave me a place to go and you are so _good_. I just… I’m sorry. If you want me to leave, I can.”

This time, Dante does reach for Nero. Pulls him up against him and hugs him close. This much he can do. “Hey, shh. You’re not going anywhere. Not if you don’t want to. You are always welcome here. And… I’m sorry. I had to ask, I needed to be sure. I like you, too, kiddo. More than, actually. You’re a very special person. But I’m still your teacher and you’re still underage.”

Nero melts into Dante’s embrace. Relaxes so easily into his arms. “Only for another month.”

Dante chuckles, “You’re only underage for another month, but you’re still my student.”

“So?”

“Nero, I have so many things I want to do with you, but I absolutely can’t. Not while you’re still my student. And definitely not while you’re underage.” His arms tighten just a little more around Nero’s form.

“But you can give me a hickey.”

Dante pulls back to look at him, “Are we still on about that? What’s got you so dead set?”

Nero nuzzles his chest and _goddamn it_. “No one has to know. I won’t tell, for all anyone knows, I’ve got some secret girlfriend or something. Who knows. Just. Please? Kiss me?”

He stares at the boy in his arms for a very long time. They’ve been hovering over this moment for a long time now. Up until now, Dante thought his feelings were entirely one sided. That they weren’t reciprocated in the slightest. But now a new level of impossibility has been added to this futile attempt not to touch Nero. But one kiss can’t hurt, right? One little mark to claim him that no one has to know the truth of? Just once? It can’t hurt.

So he runs a hand through Nero’s hair, watches the way the boy’s eyes close and he sighs in pleasure. He’s so receptive to his hair being touched and to Dante’s advances. There are mere inches between them, and Dante’s slow as he closes in. Revels in the way their breath mingles before he reaches him.

This kiss is soft. Brief and merely lips on lips. Close mouthed and innocent. Dante doesn’t let it go further than that. He wants to, wants to so badly coax open his mouth and explore him entirely. But he doesn’t. Instead, he pulls back for a moment, just long enough to catch his breath a fraction, before kissing down Nero’s jaw, down his neck, to his collarbone, just at the hem of his neckline. It’s here that he makes his mark. Marks the boy as his. It’s a promise. A promise that this won’t be the end. As long as Nero is still there, still willing, Dante will keep him safe and happy and will be back for more. Not now, but soon. He sucks gently, then harder, changing the pressure of his kiss over the course of it. Nero’s breathing hard and gasping now and then as he does it, but the real fun is in the way his hips start rolling of their own volition. Dante smirks into Nero’s skin, but doesn’t stop. He’s determined to make this mark last. As long as possible. Because he won’t let himself be this weak again.

When he pulls back, nero clings to him. “Don’t stop,” he whines. And, _god_ , it’s an erotic sound. And Dante wants to listen. He wants to take his time and take Nero apart bit by bit until he’s a whining, teary eyed mess in his lap. All his.

But not now.

“Tell you what. You still want me after you’re no longer my student, I won’t deny you.”

“But-”

Dante holds a finger up to Nero’s lips, “ _But_ , until then, you are my _student_. Nothing more, nothing less. Well, I guess house mate, too. Not going to kick you out or anything. We can’t do…” Dante waves his hands vaguely over the two of them, “this.”

Nero buries himself into Dante’s chest again and groans. Dante rubs his hands over the boy’s back. “I know. I’m still here for you, kiddo. Right here.”

Several moments of silence pass in which Dante just holds Nero close to him. It’s almost liberating, knowing that the feelings he’s had for months are reciprocated. Even if he can’t really do anything about them.

Some time later, Nero pulls back, “Hey, Dante?”

Dante looks down and his nose finds its way into Nero’s hair. Still smells like strawberries. “Yeah, kid?”

“Who’s Vergil?”

It’s like the air is knocked out of his lungs in one moment. His chest feels like it’s in a vice grip and his fingers go icy cold. “Where did you hear that name?”

Nero looks up with concern in his eyes, “I didn’t mean- You don’t- There was an album downstairs. Most of it was you but. One of them said ‘Vergil.’”

Dante takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “Vergil…” Is? Was? What is he even supposed to say? “Vergil’s my brother. Twin.” He stops there, isn’t really sure what else to say.

The look Nero gives him is so full of intelligence, so wise beyond his years, so understanding. It’s one of the many things that made Dante fall in love with him in the first place. “Where is he now?”

Dante heaves a sigh, clearing himself of all the tension that formed at the mention of his brother, “No idea. He split not long after mom died. Finished high school and I never heard from him again. Could be dead for all I know.”

There’s a quiet moment in which Nero appears to be evaluating Dante. He just looks on at him with this look. Then he curls back up against Dante’s chest and somehow everything is ok. It doesn’t matter that Vergil is gone and might never come back. Doesn’t matter that Dante has skeletons in his closet because of the drama of what happened with his family when he was a child. Nothing really matters except this moment. Nero curled up against him and his arms around him. Leaning on one another for the support they both need.

\--

“Trish wants us to come by for dinner.”

Nero looks over at Dante from where he’s working on some drawing at his little station, “That’s not… dangerous?”

Dante looks back at Nero with a blank look. It takes a long minute and several heavy blinks before he understands what Nero means, “Trish knew about us before I knew about us. She’s fine.”

He gets a skeptical look but Nero doesn’t ask anymore questions.

That evening, Dante drives them over to where Trish lives with Lady. It’s not far, almost right across the street by Ortonville standards. It’s a nice place, at the end of the road in a nice neighbourhood on top of a hill. That’s what happens when you live with a renowned university scientist that makes more than a teacher ever would. They make enough to splurge on a nicer place.

Nero seems in awe of the place. “Miss Trish lives _here_?” he asks staring out the window as they go up the driveway.

“Yup, the girlfriend makes the big bucks.”

Nero looks back at Dante, “Girlfriend?”

Dante looks at Nero as he parks, “You can’t tell me you’ve been in her lit class all year and not seen the practical shrine she has to Lady on her desk.”

“Lady? What kind of name is that?”

As Dante leads Nero toward the front door, he smirks, “Not her real one, but she’d kill you if you called her by that. Just stick with Lady.”

He opens the door as if it’s his own house. Practically is in some ways. He holds it open for Nero to step in before following behind and toeing off his boots, “Yo, we’re here!”

Trish’s head pops out from the direction of the bedroom, “Oh good. Make yourselves at home. Hi, Nero.”

Dante glances over at Nero and is blessed with witnessing the boy go bright red at the direct greeting from Trish. The poor kid can’t look at any girl for any length of time without blushing, much less one that looks like Trish and gives him direct attention. Poor kid looks like he’s gonna melt. “Come on kiddo, before you self destruct.” He leads him into the house and to the living room. There, he can see much of the main floor of the house. The living room, with its couches and big screen TV, connected to the kitchen, wide and open with an island in the center. It’s all much more sprawling than Dante’s home. There’s a door in the kitchen that leads out onto a balcony overlooking the backyard.

“Wow.”

Dante grins, “Yeah, these two are living the high life. But tonight, we get pampered.” He raises his voice for the next part and he lounges on the couch and kicks up his feet, “Hope the girls don’t kill us with their cooking!”

He hears something from the bedroom that sounds like it might be Lady threatening something. Probably his imminent bodily harm. Nothing new. Nero sits down on the same couch as Dante, but way at the other end like he’s scared to sit too close while also being scared to sit on the couch too much, based on how he’s perched on the edge near to falling off. “Nero, kiddo, relax. They aren’t going to yell at you. They’re my only friends, you can trust them.” Then, more as a joke but he can’t deny the probable truth, “They’re likely just finishing fucking before they greet their guests.”

And there’s the blush again. Cute. Dante pokes Nero’s side with his foot and grins. Nero’s lips turn up of their own accord and his hand comes up to shove Dante’s leg back. They get into a little shoving match, ending up twisted in one another, until the sound of a throat being cleared startles them both to look toward the bedroom. Trish and Lady are both leaning against either wall of the short hall leading to the bedroom looking at them with disgustingly knowing looks. Trish has this little smirk and Lady is wearing a disgusted frown.

“Jesus, Trish, you could’ve warned me they’d be _this_ gay.”

Dante sneers at Lady’s comment and Nero goes redder than ever before. “Like you have any room to talk, _Lady_ ,” Dante retorts, looking her over, “You’ve got a little lipstick on your collar there.”

Lady’s face immediately goes red and she turns to retreat into the bedroom again while Trish and Dante chuckle at her.

Trish pushes off the wall to approach them. She’s dressed in what any normal person would probably deem excessively formal, but to her it’s probably just an old evening dress she tossed on. She always did have an odd sense of appropriate fashion. Dante can see the way Nero’s eyes wander around the room to look at literally anything other than Trish. Poor virgin boy. Poor gay virgin boy.

She perches on her coffee table, legs crossed, “So, Nero. How’s life living with this dork?”

Nero tenses up at being addressed, but forces himself to relax, “I can’t tell if I’m a roommate or a hospice caretaker.”

Dante offers him a kick to the side for that little comment, but Trish howls with laughter. “I knew there was something good about him.”

At this point, Dante feels pretty ganged up upon, but at the same time, he feels at peace. It’s almost normal, almost like a double date with his best friends. As Lady comes out and they sit down to eat, Dante can almost pretend that’s exactly what it is. He can pretend Nero is just a little older, that he’s not a student. That they’re happy together and that they don’t have to hide anything. They can give each other stupid lovesick grins because no one is going to accuse them of anything.

It’s one of the best evenings Dante’s had in a long time. Full of laughter and poking fun. Full of Lady and Trish grossing Dante and Nero out with their loving looks and little kisses. Full of Dante and Nero actually getting to be natural in the presence of other people. It’s such a relaxing evening, so perfect in its mundane nature.

It’s very late by the time they leave. Dante’s drunk off laughter and cognac. Nero’s giggling from the half a beer they let him have. Lady’s practically hanging off of Trish’s neck, glass of wine still in her hand. It’s a wonder she never spilled it. Trish seems to be the only one that doesn’t appear completely affected by the events of the evening.

“You take care of that girl of yours, Trish. She looks like she’s about to pass out on you.”

Trish pats Lady’s waist, “Ah, I’ll have her in bed in no time, don’t even worry about that. You look like you’ve got your own mess to take care of. He barely drank anything.”

Dante glances over to Nero, who’s spinning around in circles in the grass in the dark front yard, “Lightweight, who’d have thought? I’ll make sure he sleeps it off.” Trish laughs and waves him off before Dante turns back to the boy, “Come on, baby boy. You need sleep and probably a little water.”

Nero runs up to Dante and practically crashes into him, “You called me baby again.”

He’d been hoping Nero hadn’t noticed the other times he had called the boy baby. Though, to be perfectly fair, it’s possible he won’t remember this. He barely drank and he’s acting crazy. “Mhm, come on, let’s go home.”

“I like it when you call me baby. You should do it more.” He’s slurring his words and clinging to Dante, nearly falling over.

“Did Trish give you more to drink than I thought? Jeez, kiddo. Come on now, walk on.” Dante starts leading Nero toward the car.

“We’re going home?”

“Yup, going home.” He opens Nero’s door and helps him sit down in the seat, buckles him up and makes sure he’s all secure before standing to go to his own seat.

Dante barely has the driver side door open before Nero is babbling again, “You gonna take care of me?”

“Course I am, baby boy.” Dante throws the key and pulls out of the driveway as Nero wiggles in his seat. Five minutes and they’ll be home.

Nero babbles some more, mostly incoherently, on the way back. When they pull into the garage, Dante has to help him back out of the car and into the house. He tries to take Nero to his room, but Nero complains, “No, I wanna sleep with _you_.” He punctuates it with a hard poke at Dante’s chest.

Dante sighs and pats Nero’s back, “We really shouldn’t, Nero. You know that.”

But Nero won’t take no for an answer. He grabs Dante’s hand and yanks him into Dante’s bedroom. Dante has little choice, and is far too weak after the euphoric night, to resist the boy’s needs. So Dante sighs. “Alright, alright. You go get changed first, then you can come in here and sleep.”

Nero gives him a skeptical look, and it almost looks too sober for his activities. But then he grins and goes off to change. Dante takes the opportunity to do the same. He’s only managed to get a pair of sweats on before Nero is clamboring back into the room and diving into Dante’s bed. Dante decides to say fuck it to the shirt, he usually sleeps without one anyway, and climbs in next to Nero. He doesn’t bother putting up the shield of blankets he did the last times they slept in the bed together. It’s not worth it at this point. There are no illusions between them anymore.

As soon as Dante makes it under the covers, Nero practically melts into him, curls up and buries his face into Dante’s bare chest. Dante nearly moans when he feels teeth graze his skin absently, having almost forgotten Nero’s little biting habit. Instead, he holds back the sound and wraps his arms around the boy, “Shh, go to sleep, Nero.”

Nero mumbles something incoherent and nuzzles against Dante again. Dante waits a few moments until Nero’s breathing settles then relaxes some himself.

“I love you, Dante.”

Dante doesn’t even think anything of it, “I love you, too, зайчик.”

It’s not until he wakes up, hours later, that he realises the gravity of the exchange. He only hopes that Nero was tired and drunk enough at the time that he won’t remember it come morning. He falls back asleep with the comfort of Nero resting against his chest and Nero’s soft nibbling at his hand.

Come morning, Nero wakes up and burrows in closer to Dante, but doesn’t bring anything up from the night before. Being a weekend, Nero doesn’t have to work very hard to convince Dante to stay in bed with him all morning. They laze around for the entire morning, huddled under the covers holding each other close.

It’s not until early afternoon that they finally drag themselves out of the bedroom and Nero makes some pancakes from a box. Dante loves it when Nero cooks, even if it’s simple. It’s better than anything he can make and it’s almost like a live in housemaid or something. Dante’s even called him wifey a time or two for kicks. He likes the way Nero blushes every time, even though he looks a little angry.

It’s not until Dante’s being handed a plate of steaming pancakes with an excessive amount of syrup that Nero brings up anything about last night.

“What does zah-ee-chick mean?”

His pronunciation is terrible, but Russian isn’t the easiest language to pick up after hearing one word one time when you’re half asleep. But it’s effective. Dante’s mind flashes back to the night before. To that moment with Nero in his arms against his bare chest. To the words they spoke to one another in a moment of weakness.

“Bunny,” Dante whispers.

Nero’s cheeks dust pink once again as he looks away. He takes a couple bites of his pancakes, tiny little bites. Then, after Dante is sure he’s decided the topic has been dropped, “I like it.”

He struggles to hide the smirk that works its way unbidden to his lips. The nickname had been a spur of the moment decision. Something he never thought he’d call anyone. Russian was the tongue of his family, his parents. It’s love for him. Special. He’s never used the language for another person before.

Just Nero.

Dante doesn’t say anything in response to Nero’s admission. He just quietly eats his pancakes while casting furtive glances over toward Nero. When they’re finished, Dante gets up to take their plate to the kitchen and leans down to kiss Nero’s forehead, “Your pronunciation is miserable.”

Nero sits in shock at the comment.

\--

March is a tumultuous time for Dante and Nero.

The air is still cold, snow still on the ground in most places. Spring doesn’t hit the area early. But the heat is on Dante.

Teachers are starting to talk. And there’s only so much Trish can do to assuage the suspicions when they see Nero getting out of Dante’s car every morning and going home with him every evening. People talk, and if people thought high school girls were the worst gossipers, then they’ve never met high school teachers.

The rumours start slow. Just whispers Dante almost doesn’t get wind of at first. But it escalates. Dante starts noticing he’s the topic of conversation far more often than usual. He finds himself walking into a room a hearing the room shush as everyone’s heads turn toward him, and he knows that he’d just been the topic of the room.

Even the students start to talk. Nero mostly ignores them, or so he says. But Dante hears them talking and he can see the way Nero is affected. And every now and then he shows up to class with scrapes on his knuckles from fights. It’s obvious that Nero is more affected than he lets on.

Trish tries. She tries to explain away the potentially damning evidence of Dante and Nero’s spent time together. And she does a good job, but there’s only so much that can be said and only so many excuses that can be made.

Early March, Dante gets a letter in his mailbox. A summons from the school board. A request for a meeting on a Wednesday afternoon. Dante doesn’t tell anyone about it. Mostly, he forgets about it until he gets a phone call that morning reminding him of the meeting during his afternoon break from classes.

So he has to tell Nero that he won’t be in the room for the afternoon. And he can’t actually lie to the kid and his stupid pretty blue eyes. So he tells the truth. Tells him he’s going to get grilled by the board about the student that seems a little too close to him.

And when fifth period starts, he goes to the conference room off the front office.

Three members of the school board, including the principal, sit at the front of the table. “Have a seat,” the principal offers, gesturing toward the seat at the other side of the table. It feels like an inquisition, but Dante has faced much worse in his life. He has memories that would break these people. They can’t scare him.

“We’ve had some… _concerns_ brought to our attention that one of your students has been receiving… special attention.” Dante hates the way the man speaks to him. Like he’s better, above Dante.

“Is this another one of your ploys to get me fired? Another rumour in this gossip hole started to get me into trouble?”

Frowns return his statement. “Mr. Sparda-”

“Don’t!” Dante cuts him off, “Don’t call me that.”

The principal gives him a measured look, “Fine, _Dante_.” More belittling. “This is a very serious accusation and could spell very detrimental to your career.”

Dante laughs. He laughs right into their faces, “If you actually had anything to substantiate this, I would already be gone. You wouldn’t waste time getting rid of me, I know how much you hate me. Why don’t you cut the bullshit and tell me what you actually want. And if you don’t have anything, then I’m going to walk out of here.”

All three of them stare at him with furrowed, angry brows. He knows he’s got them. They don’t have anything real on him. No evidence of his supposed activities with Nero. Based on the vague nature of this ‘complaint,’ it looks like they might not even be sure of who it is they think he’s spending his time with. And he’s not about to give that up if they don’t offer it first.

Anything to protect Nero. To keep him safe.

“Is that it then? You don’t have any evidence? No real questions? Just fishing for me to incriminate myself? I’ll be leaving then. I don’t appreciate the time I’ve wasted when I could have been grading and helping shape young minds and all the bullshit you claim you do here, but really it’s the teachers whose lives you make difficult.” He stands then, walking out of the room without waiting to find out if they have any further asinine questions.

He’s done. He’s so finished with the school board and their claims that they only want the best for the children that go to school here when they don’t give two shits as long as they keep getting awards. They impose rules on the teachers and the students that make their lives difficult and when things like what happened- hell, are happening- to Nero happen, the board just turns their heads and pretends it doesn’t exist. It’s no wonder Nero never sought any help out from anyone here. It’s a wonder Dante managed to earn his trust at all.

When Dante crashes back into his classroom, he’s surprised to find it isn’t empty. Not only is Nero there for his free period, but Trish is also there, sitting at his desk with a magazine in hand. He hadn’t realised the meeting had gone quite so long. It seemed as if it had been over in moments. Yet, when he looks at the clock, it’s already halfway through sixth period.

“Figured the kid could use some supervision while you were caught up. Why didn’t you tell me the board called you for a meeting?”

Dante huffs and collapses into one of the desks. “Wasn’t important.”

Trish puts down the magazine and leans toward where he’s sitting, “Dante, you could have been _fired_ or _worse_. You could go to _jail_.”

“I’m not going anywhere, they didn’t have shit.”

Dante can hear the way Trish’s concern rises. “Not this time. But do you think for a _second_ that they won’t be on your ass from now on? What happens when they do find something on you? It’s not like it would take all that much digging. What happens to _Nero_?”

Up until this point, Nero has been quiet. Almost invisible. But now he speaks up. “Don’t talk about me like I’m not here.”

Trish turns to him immediately, “I’m sorry, Nero, honey, I-”

“No. You sound like my parents. Stop it. I can make my own decisions and so can he.”

Dante smirks. So smart. The kid is so goddamn smart. Quiet, nasty temper, but so _so_ smart. “Right you are, зайчик. So what do you think we should do about all of this?” Trish gives him a look at the pet name, but Dante ignores her.

Nero shrugs, “Not up to me.”

“Well, I think it just means we have to be more careful. No favouritism. That means you have to do your work, kiddo.”

“And no nicknames,” Trish mutters under her breath. Dante shoots her a look, but she’s not wrong. Dante has to tone it down. Pick one name to call Nero in public. It’s a tragedy, the boy just insights so many adorable nicknames.

“I’m not letting you go back to that house, Nero. I can’t let you go back there.”

Nero blushes and hides in himself. Dante can catch a little happy smile tugging at his lips and it makes him happy. He’s not going anywhere. He’s safe with Dante.

Trish looks between them before standing. “You have got to be damn careful. I know this is all for the best, but I don’t want either of you getting in trouble. Please be careful.”

Dante looks at her, “Yes, _mom_.” He says it jokingly, but he does appreciate her concern. He knows she only cares for them. Hell, she’s practically taken on a motherly role for Nero in all of this.

She gives them one last look, then sighs as she leaves the room.

And finally, Dante turns his full and undivided attention to Nero.

“You have to report them.”

Nero’s head turns and he stares wide eyed at Dante. “Wh-no!”

“Nero. Right now, there is absolutely nothing for us to fall back on if it gets out that you are staying with me. Now, I’m alright with that because I care a lot more about you being safe than I do about my own life, but think about it. If you don’t report them, they win. They get away with the terrible things they’ve done to you. You need to end this.”

Nero stares at him and the way he looks almost betrayed tears Dante apart down to his very soul. “It’s not- not about letting them win!”

“Then what is it, kiddo? Why won’t you do this?”

Nero goes deadly silent. This aura surrounds him and it’s the first time that Dante is truly afraid for Nero. Even when Nero came in with a broken arm, beaten by the people that are supposed to support and love him, he hadn’t been afraid for him. Nero is a strong kid, knows how to take care of himself. He grew up too much too fast, just like Dante had.

But this is different.

“I don’t have anywhere to go.”

Dante stares. He doesn’t know what to say. And the worst part is, he should have seen that coming. He should have known and understood that. But he didn’t. And after all, he had Vergil. He never felt quite like that. “Nero, what do you mean you don’t have anywhere to go? You don’t have to go anywhere. I’ve got you. I am _here_ for you.”

Tears well up in Nero’s eyes and he stubbornly tries to wipe them away subtly and fails. He sniffles and struggles to speak, “I don’t- They- They’re all I’ve got.” His words are hard to understand, but they don’t need to be clear. Nero’s reasoning is becoming abundantly clear.

Dante stands. He gets up without a word and goes to the door. He puts up the lockdown paper in the window, and throws the lock on the door. Then he goes to the little corner of the room that can’t been seen from the door, blackout paper or no, and sits on the floor. Then he looks at Nero and waves him over. “C’mere, kiddo.”

Nero stares at him in confusion. He wipes at his face with the back of his hands almost like a compulsion, but he doesn’t move. After a few moments of this, Dante tries again. “Nero. Зайчик. Come over here where I don’t have to pretend that I’m not crazy about you.”

This time, Nero moves. It’s slow and tentative, but he does. He walks over to the spot Dante made on the floor and kneels in front of him. Dante gives him a moment to just sit there alone before reaching forward and pulling the boy into his lap. And he just holds him for a minute. Rocks him back and forth and rubs his back. It’s very reminiscent of the time he brought him back here soaking wet after finding him by the creek. But it means a lot more now.

He kisses his hair, “You are safe with me, зайчик. I’ve said it before and I will say it again. You are safe with me and you always will be. You _always_ have a home with me, if you want it.” He pauses in his speech and reaches for Nero’s chin, pulling it up so Nero looks into his eyes with watery eyes, “You have _me_. I understand how hard it is to forsake family, even when they deserve it. But these people are the bottom feeders of the world. They don’t deserve your brilliance, your love. Hell, I don’t deserve that. You are so good, Nero. You deserve so much more than them. You are stronger than this and you will get passed this. And I’m here to help, if you want it.”

Nero blinks then presses his face to Dante’s neck, fingers twisted in his shirt, “I’m scared.”

“I know, baby, I know. But it’s ok. I’ll go with you, nothing bad will happen to you. I’ll keep you safe. I promise.”

Dante can hear Nero sniffle against him as he clings desperately. He rocks Nero gently as they sit on the floor and coos at him every now and then. He doesn’t push, doesn’t press more than he already has. He just provides comfort. Kisses Nero’s hair every so often just to remind him that he’s here.

“Ok.”

Dante pulls back, “Ok?”

Nero nods, still pressed into Dante, “Ok, I’ll do it. But I want to wait until I turn eighteen. It’s so close now, I don’t want to be in the system, even for this short a time.”

“Alright,” he kisses his hair again, “Alright.”


	8. Double Entendre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very important birthday.

As Nero’s birthday draws closer, Dante starts panicking. Not because he’s really worried about anything happening, or because anything is going to really change. Not even because of what Nero has promised he will do.

He has no idea what to get him for his birthday.

He’s been wracking his brain for weeks over what he can possibly get the boy. It has to be special. Something good, but not too flashy. Something Nero will appreciate. Something that says I care about you, you mean the world to me, but also something he doesn’t have to hide.

It’s an impossible task.

Dante refuses to go to the girls for help. Not only will they probably just tease him relentlessly, but it needs to come from him. From him and him alone. No help, no assistance. He can do this. Just. Find a present for Nero. Can’t be too difficult, right?

It’s _impossible_.

About a week before Nero’s birthday, Dante’s basically given up. He figures he’ll just get Nero a stripper or something. Maybe order him a pizza cake or some shit. Just something dumb. Because he can’t come up with anything. They’re sitting around the house, and it’s a rare evening in which Nero is flipping through one of Dante’s magazines rather than drawing.

“Hey, where’d you get that coat?”

Dante looks over, startled from his focus on the television. “Hmm?”

“That coat,” Nero motions toward where Dante’s big leather jacket is hanging haphazardly off the back of a chair, “that one you always wear.”

Dante glances to the coat and lets a tiny smile pull at his lips. “Made it.”

Nero looks at him in wide-eyed shock, “You _made_ it?”

He nods, smirk widening, “Yup.” His lips pop the p. “Ma taught me to sew when I was little. I just… kept it up. It’s come in handy a few times.”

“Holy _shit_ , dude.”

Dante shrugs and returns his attention to the television. Nero seems to drop the issue for the time being, but the conversation sticks in Dante’s head. A plan begins to form and he spends the rest of the evening thinking up how he’s going to go about doing it. It’ll be tough, considering he’s almost never not in Nero’s presence. But if Trish can take him for a bit, or he goes out with his friends…

\--

“I need your help.”

Trish looks up from the papers she’s grading with an amused expression, “And what could you, the mighty Dante, ever want from a lowly, simple teacher such as myself?”

“You could get me a pizza without olives on it for once for starters,” he jests back. “But seriously. Were you and Lady planning on doing anything for Nero’s birthday?”

She cocks her head, “We were thinking about taking him out for dinner or something, why?”

“I need you to take him for a day. Keep him away from me for as long as you can.”

Trish’s eyebrows draw together in confusion, “Why…?”

Dante sighs, “I need time to work on what _I’m_ doing for his birthday. Kid’s always around, tough to work on a surprise.”

There’s that motherly approval that Trish gives him when he does something she deems good. “Aww, what are you doing?”

He glares, “It’s a surprise.”

“Not for me!”

He gets up and starts walking away, totally not (definitely) trying to hide a blush, “Shut it, Trish. Just, keep Nero busy for a few hours.”

She calls after him as he’s walking through the door, “We’ll take him on Saturday then!”

\--

Gathering materials isn’t cheap. Dante takes fifth period off the next day to be able to do so. It’s not easy to find exactly what he’s looking for. It’s even harder to hide his purchases from Nero when he returns to the school.

He spends fifth periods very carefully working on Nero’s present. At least as much as he can do at school. The hardest part comes Friday when he has to bring all of the supplies home without Nero suspecting anything. But he manages somehow. At least he thinks he does. Nero doesn’t seem to be any wiser on what Dante has planned for him.

Saturday comes and the girls pick Nero up around noon. Trish winks hardly subtly at Dante, ensuring they’ll keep him out all day. Dante waves them out the door probably a bit too rushed, a bit too suspicious. He gets a confused look from Nero, but it’s wiped away the moment the girls start gushing over the boy. He’s like a surrogate child to them, they spoil him.

When the house is finally quiet and Trish’s car gone from the driveway, Dante sighs and takes five seconds to just sink into the couch and think. Then he gets to work. Down in the basement, he unloads all of his supplies and his sewing machine and he works. He gets lost in it, in the sound of the sewing machine, in the intricacy of the stitches, in the piecing together his pattern. Hours pass without his even noticing. It’s been a long time since he’s really sat down to sew anything, and he finds he’s missed it. It’s a connection to the memory of his mother, almost spiritual in the trance he falls into.

It’s dark when he hears a car in the driveway and he’s suddenly jolted out of his trance state. He looks at his phone to see missed calls and texts from Trish and Lady both trying to tell him they were finished. He swears under his breath and rushes to put the nearly finished present somewhere Nero won’t find then jogs upstairs to greet their return.

He emerges from the basement just as Lady is giving Nero a hug and wishing him a happy early birthday. “Hey, kiddo. Have fun?”

Nero smiles brilliantly and Dante chest tightens, “Yeah! We went to dinner and shopping and Lady got me all these pens…” and as much as Dante does care, Nero goes off into a detailed account of the day and he stops paying attention. He just smiles and nods and when Nero pauses for air, he ruffles his hair.

“Glad you guys had fun.”

Trish looks at him from behind Nero in question. They’ve known each other long enough that he doesn’t need words to know that she wants to know how his afternoon went. He nods slightly to indicate that he got enough done. Not entirely, but he can’t really convey that without words. The nod is enough, she smiles at him.

“Alright, we’ll get out of your hair then. Be good,” She waves and puts her free hand on the small of Lady’s back before leading the two of them out.

When the door closes behind them, Dante looks at Nero’s bags, “Go on and put all that up, I’m gonna grab some food.”

Twenty minutes later and they’re lounging together on the couch, Nero lent back into Dante with his latest sketchbook perched on his knees while he messes around with his new pens. Dante’s hand absently runs through his hair as he watches over his shoulder at the doodling. Without pausing, Nero speaks, “So what are you getting me for my birthday?”

Dante laughs, “I dunno, what do you want?”

Nero’s hands pause in their work and he looks thoughtful before leaning his head back into Dante to try to look at him, “A kiss would be nice.”

He smirks and leans down as he pulls Nero’s head back a little more. He can’t quite reach Nero’s lips, so he kisses the bridge of his nose instead. “Not a very special gift when you can ask for that just about any time.”

Nero pouts, “Not that you’ll give it to me.”

“I just did!” Dante chuckles.

“Pretty shitty excuse for a kiss.”

Dante has never been one to take well to an insult or a challenge and Nero’s statement is both. So he takes his free hand that has just been resting around Nero’s middle and takes the pens and sketchbook from his hands to set them aside before pulling the boy closer while trying to get him to twist into a better position. His other hand slides from Nero’s hair to grab his chin and pull him up. This time, their lips meet full on. Dante presses himself firmly against Nero and they melt together. He pokes his tongue out, teasing against Nero’s lips. But when Nero’s mouth opens so easy, he pulls back. “Better?”

Nero’s eyes flutter open slowly, then his brows pull together, “Hey! Why’d you stop when it was getting good?”

“You have so much to learn, зайчик.” Dante kisses the tip of his nose, “And you are still my student. Still underage for… three more days. You don’t get any more than that for a while.”

Dante can’t hold back the grin at the way Nero’s frown deepens. He pouts so cutely. What a beautiful boy. Dante reaches up to ruffle his hair. “Lay back down, kid.”

Nero lays into Dante’s chest as he is, snuggling against him, “I’m good here.”

“I’m sure you are,” Dante whispers as he lets his arms circle Nero’s waist loosely. “You won’t finish that nice picture like this.”

“Don’t care.”

Dante chuckles, “Alright then, kiddo.” He sinks deeper into the couch to get a bit more comfortable then closes his eyes to rest.

\--

When Tuesday comes, Dante’s practically sweating bullets. He’s up nearly two hours early to make sure his gift is finished and ready to give to Nero, after which he spends his time pacing uselessly through the kitchen. He cracks open a bottle of whiskey in an attempt to cool his nerves. He doesn’t really have any reason to be so nervous, and yet he is. For some reason, this feels more than just a simple gift for a simple friend. More even than a gift for a significant other. This is giving a piece of himself, a piece of who he is, to another person.

And Nero deserves it.

Nero deserves the fucking world and Dante would do just about anything to give it to him. He would do anything to see the brilliant smile that spreads across his face in those rare moments when he’s truly happy. He’d love to take Nero out every night and show him off to the world and make him smile like that all the time.

It’s a bit late when Nero finally rises. Dante lets him have the extra few minutes. It is his birthday, after all. Nero comes out of the bedroom in all his exhausted glory, yawning and scratching his head sleepily. Dante can’t stop the dopey grin that manifests even if he’d cared to try. Nero is so goddamn adorable. “Mornin’ sleeping beauty. Happy birthday.”

Nero mumbles something that might be a thanks, but could also be a ‘fuck you.’ And it’s so undeniably Nero it makes Dante laugh. He’s stunning like this, sleepy and cranky. Beautiful as always. “Come on, there’s coffee on the counter.” Nero stumbles to the kitchen and takes the mug Dante left out for him and takes a swig.

It takes Nero half the mug before he’s awake enough to speak coherently, at which point Dante starts to kick him into gear. “Time to get ready, birthday boys don’t get to skip out on a day full of learning.” Nero shoots him a venomous glare, to which Dante simply smiles back. He’s hiding his nerves, hiding the way he’s sweating over whether Nero will approve of his plan for the day, and of his present.

For the most part, the day is fairly mundane. Dante teaches, Nero goes to class and it’s just like any other day. Dante does let his classes watch a movie and fuck off instead of doing work in honour of Nero’s birthday, and they spend sixth period talking about the plan to head to the station after school.

It’s when the final bell rings that Dante finally puts his plan in action.

Nero nearly jumps out of his seat at the sound. He’s obviously nervous and the poor kid has probably been stressing about going in all day. “Hey, Nero. Calm down, ok? I’m right here with you.” He looks at Dante then sets his jaw and nods. “Good. Now come here, I’ve got something for you.”

The adorable determined expression quickly morphs into one of confusion. “What?”

Dante tries to wave the boy closer, “Come here. It’s your birthday, right? Gotta give you your present.”

“You didn’t have to- I-”

“I wanted to. Just come here.” Dante’s feet move under his desk just to make sure for the billionth time that Nero’s present is where it should be, hidden from sight.

Nero approaches the desk slowly, looking almost scared. Dante just grins while he makes his way over tentatively. When he’s standing next to Dante’s desk, Dante stands.

“So, I had a tough time coming up with something to give you…” Suddenly, the speech he had planned out seems… pointless. And stupid. He’s never been very good with words, has he? “Anyway, here.” He reaches down under his desk and pulls out the present, draping the jacket over Nero’s shoulders and pulling it closed in front of him.

Nero’s eyes widen the second the jacket touches him. He opens his mouth as if to protest, but Dante holds a finger to his lips. “Don’t you dare reject this I spent hours on it.”

“You _made_ this?”

Dante scoffs, “Don’t act so surprised. I already told you I made mine.”

“But I didn’t _believe_ you. Holy _fuck_ , Dante. I can’t- Is this _real_?” Nero’s voice is rising in volume and exasperation.

Dante sighs with a little smile, “If you’re asking if it’s real leather, yes of course. Fake shit stinks and you’re worth more than that.”

“Dante… This is… I can’t- This-” He cuts himself off and looks into Dante’s eyes. Dante can see all the conflicting emotions there. The denial, the surprise, the gratitude, the confusion. The love. But it’s the way he’s so utterly baffled at receiving a gift that is the hardest for Dante to see.

He glances over his shoulder toward the door, sees that the halls are quiet and clear, and takes another step toward Nero. His arms snake around the boy and he pulls him close, “Nero, I wanted to do something special for you. I hope this is half as good as you deserve. I’d give you the world on a gold platter if I could.” That was excessively sappy and entirely out of character for Dante, but Nero is special. He should know that.

Nero doesn’t respond to Dante’s little speech. Just quietly stands there while Dante holds him and Dante returns the silence. For several moments they just stand there in their embrace. Then, Dante steps back and rubs at Nero’s upper arms. “Come on, kiddo. Let’s get to the police station.”

After Nero nods silently, Dante gathers his things and leads him out of the building. They drive in silence, an odd tension hanging in the air between them. Dante hopes that he’s doing the right thing. He doesn’t want to push Nero into anything he doesn’t want. But he needs to do this. He needs to take these toxic people down and send them to jail for the horrific things they’ve done for someone they should have loved more than anyone else.

He pulls into a parking spot outside the station and turns to Nero and the engine cuts off, “You ready, kid? I’m gonna be right there with you.”

Nero nods, “Yeah,” he turns to face Dante, “Just… don’t leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m coming with you, I’ll be right there with you the whole time.”

Nero gives him the tiniest smile, “Thanks.”

And then it’s show time.

Dante walks just behind and to the left of Nero. For a few steps, he subtly places his hand on the small of Nero’s back. For a sense of security and to remind him that he’s there for him. But once they pass through the doors, he drops the hand in favour of being a watchful shadow behind Nero, there for him but with a noticeable distance between them.

The process is actually relatively painless. There’s paperwork and lots of questions to be answered. The police are very kind to Nero, probably because he’s so obviously terrified of being there. It takes him a long time to file the reports when he has to start describing incidents and he cries several times before it’s over. Every time, Dante is there to wipe his tears and tell him how strong he is and how proud Dante is of him.

It’s late by the time they’re finished. Nero looks absolutely exhausted and drained and Dante feels like it’s going to be one of those quiet nights where he doesn’t say much and isn’t very social. But that’s alright. He should take whatever time he needs to recover from the magnitude of what he’s done. Finally reporting the years of abuse he’s been subjected to both physically and sexually.

When Dante pulls into the garage, he isn’t surprised that Nero practically books into the house without waiting for him. It’s happened before. The first time, it scared the shit out of Dante, he thought he’d done something wrong. But now he knows that Nero just needs to be alone and find a place to decompress where he feels safe. Dante will usually find him a while later in Nero’s room or if it’s nice, out at the edge of the property in the treeline. So when it happens today, Dante simply takes his time following the boy into the house.

Dante takes his time going downstairs to feed the dogs and let them out. He lets himself relax for a bit on the couch, just to give Nero a bit more time. But when he glances at the clock, he realises that they really should eat something.

So he goes looking.

He starts in Nero’s room. The bed is untouched, but Nero’s backpack is in there, so he did at least stop there before disappearing elsewhere. Dante hasn’t seen him since he ran into the house when they got back. He glances into the other room before checking the basement. When there’s still no sign of Nero, he figures he’ll have to hike the property to look for him. So he goes back upstairs to grab his coat (it’s still pretty cold, even in mid April).

That’s when it strikes him that his bedroom door is closed.

He never leaves his bedroom door closed unless he has some reason to keep the dogs out of it, which is hardly ever. And he definitely hasn’t done that today. He pulls back the arm he had halfway to his jacket and goes back down the hall. At first, he presses his ear to the door and just listens. He doesn’t hear anything, but he wasn’t really expecting to. Next, he knocks softly at the door, “Nero? Are you in there?”

There’s no response, but Dante already knows the answer. He opens the door slowly and quietly, wondering if maybe Nero is asleep. When the door opens enough, Dante finds he’s very wrong.

Nero is sitting on the bed with his knees pulled up to his chin and his arms wrapped around his shins tightly. It’s the smallest Dante has ever seen him and it’s so heartbreaking. He rushes over to his side and kneels next to the bed, reaching out for Nero in some way, just trying to make some physical connection. “Nero, baby, what’s wrong?”

He doesn’t even react. It’s like he hasn’t even noticed that Dante is there at all. He doesn’t react to the touch, to his words, to anything. It scares Dante, he’s worried that the day has been too much, that he wasn’t ready to go to the station.

So Dante does the only thing he can think to do.

He climbs into the bed and arranges himself so he can pull Nero into him. Nero stays in his tight little ball, but he at least seems to relax a bit, mold into Dante’s shape. “Hey, kiddo. Hey. I’m so proud of you, ok? You were so strong today. It’s all going to be over soon.”

Dante gently rocks Nero in place, holding him tightly. Minutes pass like this until Nero finally speaks, voice dry and cracked, “They’re gonna find me.”

It’s the most broken and terrible thing he’s heard come from Nero’s mouth. “No, no. Nero. You’re safe. I’ve got you. I’ve got you, baby, you’re safe here.” Dante coos what he hopes are reassuring words to Nero while he holds him and pets whatever part of him he can reach.

“She’s gonna hate me… She already does hate me.”

And Dante didn’t think it could get worse at that point. But it is worse. He just reported his _mother_ to the police for physical abuse. The woman that gave him life, the woman that raised him. And while Dante may be biased and think she is one of the most evil people to ever be in Nero’s life, he can understand that it would be difficult to see her that way for Nero. Poor kid obviously loves her, wants her to be a good person. But she’s just not.

“It’s ok, зайчик. You did the right thing. I’ve got you.” It’s almost a chant at this point, how he keeps reminding Nero that he’s got him. Keeps a constant string of words going, trying to fill Nero with reminders that he is good and safe and right. That he’s done an amazingly difficult thing and the Dante is so _so_ proud.

Some time later, Nero finally relaxes, becomes nearly boneless against Dante. It’s then that Dante finally changes gears, “It’s getting pretty late, kiddo. Let’s get some food in you then you should sleep.”

Nero makes a little humming sound that Dante assumes is agreement, so he helps Nero up and brings him to the kitchen. The whole time, they never separate. There’s always a physical connection, whether a hand on a shoulder or a near embrace, they never part. Nero’s clinging like Dante is his only lifeline, and he very well might be in the kid’s mind. And that’s ok. Dante is willing to be that for him if it will help.

Nero eats very little, but at least he eats. Dante finishes what he doesn’t and then looks at Nero carefully, evaluating him. “Do you want to sleep with me tonight?”

He doesn’t even hesitate. He’s nodding before Dante has even finished the question. Dante’s sure that if he gave him the option, Nero would want to sleep in his bed every night. But he’s trying to maintain boundaries. At least for now. But sometimes, Nero just needs to not be alone. And this is clearly one of those nights.

So Dante nods back in acknowledgement, gets up, and silently returns them to the bedroom. Nero dips out just long enough to change, while Dante does the same, before they both join under the covers and Nero curls into Dante’s chest.

They fall asleep to the sound of one another’s breathing.


	9. Congratulations Graduate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's finally graduation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alt Title: The Smuttening
> 
> For those of you dying for some smut in this story, it's finally here. This chapter is about 9k words, and about 7k of that is smut. Enjoy.

In the following month, Dante has to take Nero back to the station a couple times for statements and questions about his report, but he never has to see his parents. They don’t come looking for him, or at least not enough that they find him.

Those days are hard for Nero, and Dante usually lets him sleep in his room on those nights. It’s obvious it helps him and it’s not like Dante truly objects in any real way. He likes those nights, and he sleeps best with Nero against him. He’s warm and present and it makes him feel like he really can keep him safe.

And as graduation approaches, Nero gets a bit more… daring in his flirtations. Dante can see it in the way he moves and in the way he speaks. Even at school, he’ll say things that he knows Dante will understand and it’s _very distracting_. The damn boy knows how to get Dante to pay attention to only him and in the middle of a lecture, that’s a bit of a problem.

Fortunately, though, Dante has about as much motivation for teaching high school seniors at the end of the year as they have for learning. And weeks before graduation, that’s non existent. He usually just throws on a movie or gives them something they’ll pretend to read. Everyone is excited about graduation, so no one really cares about the last few assignments. Even Dante’s final is bullshit. It’s mostly really easy history questions with some questions about the students’ days and future plans sprinkled in. Lots of stupid jokes and very little actually learned information.

Graduation is a pretty big deal in Brandon, as one would expect. The performing arts center at the school can’t hold everyone that attends, so they have the ceremony on the football field, barring any adverse weather, of course. The teachers aren’t big on actually being part of the ceremony, though. Most of the time, it’s a struggle to find willing participants to read the names of the students as they cross the stage. Which is why Dante almost always ends up doing it. But this year, he’s excited about that. He wants to read Nero’s name and he wants to shake his hand and look at him with proud eyes as he crosses that stage. He wants to see Nero be proud of himself for making it.

The day before graduation, the seniors get to stay home. And because Dante exclusively teaches senior history, so does he. Nero spends the entire day looking far too pleased with himself and running off to check to make sure his gown fits every five minutes. But he won’t let Dante see him in it.

During a respite from his manic checking, Dante pokes him in the side, “Hey, what are you planning on wearing under that gown of yours?”

Nero turns to him with a grin rivaling the Chesire cat, “Surprise.”

“Where did you get the time or the money to be able to get something to wear that would surprise _me_? I’m with you all the time!”

His grin widens impossibly, “Miss Trish and Lady got me something for my birthday.”

Of course they did. “So they get to know and I don’t?”

“Yup!” Cheeky little shit.

“Fine then, see if I care.” He cares a lot.

Nero doesn’t take the bait, just grins and jumps up to go check his fit once again.

The next day, Nero makes Dante take him to his friend’s house to get ready. He really wants to keep up this whole surprise thing and Dante figures it is probably best if they don’t show up to the graduation together anyway. He drops Nero off in the early afternoon and spends the rest of the afternoon getting ready himself.

Dante dresses in about his only nice set of clothing. It’s really just a pair of slacks and a silk button up he bought for the sole reason of going to these kind of events. He doesn’t really see what the point of wearing clothes is at all really. He has to wear his robe over them anyway.

The drive is quiet and lonely, without Nero in the car with him. It feels far longer than it usually does. So much so that he’s relieved when he finally pulls into the school. The lot is mostly empty, seeing as Dante has to be there stupidly early as a participating staff member. So he starts off going to his classroom to drop off some stuff, then goes to the field where he’ll be reporting.

The students start gathering in the performing arts center when they arrive, seated as they will be on the field. Dante sits backstage with the rest of the staff not organising students during this. He hasn’t seen Nero since he dropped him off earlier that day. He tries to get a glimpse of him from between the curtains, but to no avail. There are too many students and they’re all dressed so similarly. Even someone that sticks out as much as Nero can’t be distinguished in the crowd.

By the time it’s time to line up to head out to the field for procession, Dante is swept up in the commotion. He’s near the front of the line, with the rest of the staff, while the students follow behind. The marching band and colorguard head up the line with Pomp and Circumstance, leading the four long lines of staff and students onto the field.

The ceremony is long and mostly boring. There are long and unnecessary speeches by the principal, the valedictorian, the salutatorian, the class president, more people that Dante really couldn’t care less about. He’d fall asleep if he didn’t need to pay attention enough to know when to stand and start reading names off.

Finally, he gets up and moves to the podium when it’s time for the students to begin graduating. The process isn’t quick, and Dante is positive he fucks up a lot of the names, but the group moves bit by bit. Line by line. Nero is late in the class, sitting much farther back. But when it’s his turn, Dante doesn’t even have to look at his paper to know. This is a name he can say confidently and so full of pride. He smiles so big as he says his name into the microphone then turns to shake his hand.

It’s Nero that initiates a hug. It’s not unusual, and it isn’t the first one Dante’s gotten tonight. He may not be a favourite among staff members, but he’s been a favourite among his students. He’s helped many of them in many ways. But Nero is a special case. In more ways than one.

Their hug lasts just longer than is probably socially acceptable, but they part. Nero finishes walking across the stage and Dante can’t help but watch before he returns to calling more names of the remaining students. After Nero has finished walking, he’s considerably less excited about the rest of the names. He practically speeds through the list as fast as he can, just to get through and finish the ceremony.

Eventually, he reads the last name, shakes the last hand, and sits back down in his little shitty chair while the principal gets up again to do the closing speech. He’s already up and walking off the stage when the caps go flying. Now, he knows exactly where Nero is sitting and can head directly for him.

It’s amazing how quickly the field dissolves into a mess of people. Immediately, parents and siblings and friends pour down from the stands and go to meet with their graduates. It makes finding any particular person nearly impossible because the structure of the ceremony has morphed into utter chaos. Finding Nero is suddenly considerably more difficult.

He starts with where Nero’s seat was, but there’s no sign of him anywhere in the vicinity. Which means now it’s pretty much a free for all. So Dante starts wandering. Starting at the edges of the crowd, where he thinks Nero would go. He doesn’t like crowds or people and Dante can’t think of any other teachers than Trish and himself Nero would seek out. The other possibility is that he could be with his friends, and Dante doesn’t know them enough to be able to determine where they could be.

Dante searches for about ten minutes before he finally sees Nero’s mop of white hair. He’s dressed just as every other male student in his royal blue graduation gown, but he’s unzipped it so Dante can see the clothes he’s worn underneath. It’s not anything truly spectacular, but it is to Dante. Nero has on a nice pair of pressed black slacks and a matte red shirt that fits him so perfectly and practically makes Dante drool. It does make him think of several lewd things he’d like to do.

He walks over to where he is as quickly as possible, but as he approaches, he starts noticing things. He notices the way Nero’s posture is stiff, muscles tense. He’s hugging himself, arms tight across his body. His face is so unsettling, full of… terror.

Something is wrong.

Dante looks around, trying to determine what it is that has Nero so fucked up. He can’t figure it out, though. There are too many people and too much going on. So he continues his path to Nero, approaching him and getting his attention.

He calls his name and Nero’s head jerks to him. His shoulders relax a bit as Dante comes closer. When he finally reaches him, Dante pulls him into an embrace and whispers in his ear, “What’s wrong?”

Nero pulls back and looks at him with wide eyes, “Mom is here. With _him_.”

Dante’s heart sinks and violent rage sets in, “Have they come anywhere near you? Did they do something to you?”

Nero shakes his head, “They’re just… here. They came.”

“They lost the right to be here. I can get rid of them.”

Nero grabs his sleeve in a death grip, “No! Let’s… Let’s just go. Get out of here. I don’t think they’ve found me since the ceremony ended.”

Dante looks around, trying to pick out these people that he’s never seen. “Alright, we just have to find Trish, she and Lady wanted to take you out tonight. Congratulate you.”

Dante starts off to look for the women with an arm around Nero’s shoulders protectively, “Me too, by the way. You did good, kid. I’m so proud of you. You made it. Congratulations.” He glances to the side just in time to see Nero blush and look to the ground.

Trish is surprisingly easy to find, surrounded by hordes of students trying to talk to her or give her a hug. Everyone loves her. Lady is standing a few feet away from her, waiting for her to finish with a fond expression cast in her direction. Dante makes for her, since she’s more isolated and considerably easier to actually get to.

“Yo, we need to get out sooner rather than later. Some unwelcome shits are hanging around.”

Lady gives them a critical look and bless her because she doesn’t even need to ask. She just nods, “I’ll get Trish, you guys can head out, we’ll catch up. You know where it is, yeah?”

Dante nods and puts a hand on Lady’s shoulder briefly in thanks. Then he leaves her to gather her girlfriend while leading Nero off the field. It’s much quieter once they are outside of the realm of the football field, darkness blanketing the school outside of the stadium lights. Dante feels better without all of the people around, less like Nero’s parents could approach them at any moment. With less people, it’s easier to avoid them.

He’s quick about making their way to Dante’s car. He wants to get Nero as far away from those people as possible as fast as possible. And yet, once they’re both inside the confines of his car, he doesn’t start it immediately. He pauses for a moment and looks over at Nero. Nero looks back at him a little confused and a touch impatient. There’s a fraction of a second in which they both just stare and there’s a thick tension hanging between them.

And then Dante kisses him.

_Really_ kisses him. Hand in his hair, passion with lips on lips almost too hard. It morphs quickly, Dante’s tongue reaching out, begging for more, begging for exactly what he’s waited for _months_ for. And Nero gives him exactly that. Opens his mouth easily and lets Dante in. He melts. He’s inexperienced and will definitely need a little work, but it doesn’t matter. Dante has time. He tastes so sweet, fresh, inexperienced, new. Like chapstick and Nero.

It’s hard for him to pull back. And he can’t be sure how long exactly it is before he does. But he does, pulls back to look at Nero, lips pink and kiss swollen. he’s so goddamn beautiful. “I’ve been waiting a long time to do that.”

Nero opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He just looks shocked. Happy, but shocked. And Dante can understand that. The kiss was pretty much out of nowhere. But it was necessary. Necessary and long awaited. And afterwards, Dante isn’t entirely sure what to do with himself. So he throws the ignition and pulls out of the parking lot, avoiding the awkwardness he feels.

It’s a somewhat long, quiet drive that Dante drowns out with the classic rock station. He can’t get his mind off that kiss and how Nero felt against him. He can’t stop thinking about the way Nero just melted into him and was so _perfect_.

He almost misses the turn into the parking lot for the restaurant Trish and Lady had chosen. It’s some fancy place that is big on seafood and price. Fortunately, the girls have promised to foot the bill. No way Dante could afford it. He’s surprised they can. Lady must be doing well for herself.

Dante parks outside the restaurant and pauses a moment before turning the car off. Trish and Lady aren’t there yet, which he can see after a quick glance around at the other vehicles in the parking lot. And now it’s quiet and they’re alone and they still haven’t addressed the sudden kiss Dante gave Nero.

“Does this mean…?” Nero starts but trails off.

Dante frowns and snaps much more harshly than he intends. “Mean what? It means whatever you want it to mean.” He won’t admit he’s terrified. Terrified he went too far, terrified Nero is going to run away, reject Dante.

Mostly, he’s terrified Nero might see him as similar to his step father.

Nero shrinks back at Dante’s words, as if he’s just been reprimanded. And that hurts. Dante never wants to make Nero look like that. Yet here he is. “I’m sorry, I- I’m sorry.”

This time, it’s Nero that frowns, “Why are you sorry?”

Dante’s eyes widen and he looks away, trying to mask his embarrassment and fear. “I- I pushed myself on you. That wasn’t fair to you.”

Nero laughs.

He opens his mouth and Dante thinks he’s going to get yelled at, but laughter comes out. Bubbles out and it’s the most genuine thing Dante has heard from Nero’s mouth. And _god_ he’s beautiful. He looks so at peace with himself, so comfortable. “Dante, I’ve been begging you to do that for months now, you only gave me what I’ve wanted for ages.”

He can’t believe his ears. This kid, for whatever stupid reason, wants him. He wants him and he’s here and Dante wants to give him the entire world. How did he get so fucking lucky? He sighs in relief and reaches over to ruffle Nero’s carefully tamed hair (which is actually not all that tame at all). “Come on, kiddo. Trish and Lady got reservations, let’s go wait for them inside.”

Nero grins and nods, but before he gets out of the car, he leans over and kisses Dante. It misses a bit, Nero catches the corner of Dante’s mouth rather than the whole thing, but it’s ok. He’ll get there. And it makes Dante grin all the same. Grin at him with this disgustingly sappy expression before turning to get out of the car.

Dante and Nero are seated at the table Lady and Trish had reserved and given water. It turns out, the girls weren’t all that far behind them, as they arrive shortly after that water is given to them. They sit down and congratulate Nero on his graduation. While Lady is going off on some explanation about something relating to her job (Nero asked, silly kid), Nero reaches over and grabs Dante’s hand, threading their fingers together.

It’s such a simple gesture. Nothing big and not even something that they couldn’t really do previously. But, for some reason, it carries a lot of extra weight now. Dante can’t keep the stupid grin off his face and by the look Trish gives him, she notices. And by the way she looks to Nero, then back to him, she even knows why.

Dinner doesn’t last all that long, surprisingly enough. Lady and Trish make some lame excuse that they have something going on. Dante is pretty sure they just want to go home and fuck, but he doesn’t say anything. Mostly because he knows he’d just get relentless teasing or a detailed account of what they’ll do. Or both. And he definitely doesn’t need that. And Nero needs it even less.

Nero and Dante leave hand in hand. Again, Trish gives Dante this creepily knowing look and Dante frowns at her. But soon after, she’s disappeared with Lady and Dante is leading Nero back to his car. Nero’s hand is warm and soft in his. Comfortable. Right.

Dante is quick about getting home. He drives a little too fast. Fortunately, the roads are pretty clear this late, only getting busier closer to the Ortonville town center, which they don’t have to go into in order to make it back. So it’s pretty easy to make it back in record time, pull into the garage, and turn off the car.

But once they walk into the house, Dante feels suddenly unsure. He’s not used to being awkward and unsure about much of anything. But Nero is different. He feels like he could really fuck up with Nero, and he’s terrified of that.

They just sort of stand awkwardly in the kitchen together, glancing at each other and looking away like two nervous kids at their first dance. Dante doesn’t know what to do with himself and it’s obvious Nero has no idea either. So Dante tries his best to clear the tension by coughing awkwardly and telling Nero’s he’s got to piss.

Escape. It’s the best way to deal with the awkwardness. Dante’s tried and true method. Although, usually it’s because he’s overstayed his welcome with some one night tryst and needs to make an excuse to get the fuck out of there. But he doesn’t want to be away from Nero. On the contrary, he wants to be very near him.

When he emerges from the bathroom, he nearly jumps three feet in the air. Nero is there, sitting on the bed. On any other day, that wouldn’t have been terribly weird. Nero has a tendency to follow him around and be close. Dante always thought it was just some subconscious unwillingness to be too far away from what he sees as safety. But this is different. Everything just seems so _different_.

“Hey, kiddo. What are you doing in here?”

“Waiting.”

Dante goes over to sit on the bed with him, “Waiting for what?”

Nero’s cheeks go pink, then darken to red, “You.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

He looks away and his hand picks at a loose thread in the comforter, “I, uh… I just…”

Nero can’t seem to continue, but he doesn’t need to. Dante’s pretty sure he knows what’s up at this point. With the way Nero is blushing and getting all nervous. Dante scoots back so he’s propped up against his pillows then he pats the space next to him, “C’mere.”

At first, Dante isn’t sure Nero is going to move. He doesn’t for a while. But just as Dante is about to sigh and give up, Nero moves. Slowly, he rolls and moves toward Dante. But instead of sitting in the spot next to Dante, as he’d offered, he slots himself between Dante’s legs and lays on his chest. It’s not an unfamiliar position for them, but yet again, Dante realises the gravity of everything now. How different everything is.

Nero buries his face into Dante’s shirt, “I’m not your student anymore.”

Dante brings his arms up to wrap around Nero, hands settling on his lower back, just above his pant line. “Nope, you’re not. Free of high school, free of my class, free of all of the classes.”

Dante can feel Nero’s fingers walking over his side and it sends little shocks through his body. The silk against his skin makes him feel ultra sensitive to the touch. “I’m not your student and you aren’t my teacher.”

“You aren’t my student, but I’m pretty sure I will always be your teacher,” Dante chuckles, letting one hand trail up Nero’s back, then back down. Nero shivers under him and it makes Dante smile.

Nero frowns and picks up his head, placing his chin on Dante’s breastbone and looking up at him, “How do you figure?”

Dante grins, “Oh, you’ve got plenty to learn. And who better to teach than, well, a teacher?”

“Is that so? You talk a big game. So when does all this teaching start, then?” The more they lay there, the more confident Nero gets. His words are cheekier and his hands more sure. One hand keeps running up and down Dante’s side while the other starts tracing patterns on his chest, just under his collarbone.

He nods, “Yeah, I think the first lesson should be… working on that kissing. You’re a bit too eager. Take a step back.”

“Hey! I-” but before he can form a proper protest, Dante has a hand in his hair and his mouth on Nero’s. He’s gentle with his fingers, stroking gently through light hair and maneuvering Nero’s head back into a good position. This kiss is much more controlled than the last one. It’s less desperate and sudden, and more prepared for. At least for Dante.

He tastes the same as before, not that Dante really expected anything different. And it’s just as good as the first time. And even though Nero wanted to protest Dante’s advice, he can tell the boy is taking it to heart. Nero’s much less on offense this time around, it’s like he’s waiting for guidance first. Guidance Dante happily gives, molding Nero into a much more perfect kiss.

Dante doesn’t even notice that his hands have made their way to Nero’s pant line, tugging gently at his shirt where it’s tucked in. It’s not until Nero pulls away, breathing hard, that he registers what he’s doing and pauses. “I-”

Nero stops him from speaking with a finger to his lips, “It’s ok. Keep going.”

There’s a moment of stillness before Dante lets his fingers continue on their mission of freeing Nero’s shirt from where it’s tucked in. It doesn’t take much, Dante’s had plenty of practice. But he doesn’t go any farther after that, just rests his hands back on the small of Nero’s back. “I don’t want to push you into anything, kiddo.”

Nero sighs as he presses his face into Dante’s chest again, “I want to, please.”

“You tell me if anything is too much, promise me.” He won’t ruin this, he can’t.

“I promise.”

So with his blessing, Dante turns Nero head back up to kiss him long and deep yet again. He’s not sure he’ll ever tire of kissing Nero. He’s so good, so wonderful. His free hand finds a little patch of skin uncovered by his now rumpled shirt and absently trails at it, making Nero shiver now and then. He’s careful as he widens the patch of skin open to the air, slow and gentle. He wants Nero to enjoy every moment they’re together, to not regret a single moment. He doesn’t want to hurt him.

By the time he’s got Nero’s shirt up to his ribs, they’re both breathing hard and their lips are swollen. Dante pulls back so he can look into Nero’s eyes. His beautiful, accepting eyes. Fuck. Dante hooks his legs over Nero’s to give him leverage so he can gently flip him over, putting Dante over Nero. He looms over the boy, straddling his hips and holding himself up with his hands to either side of Nero’s shoulders.

“Hey there.”

Nero blushes, “Hi.” He squirms slightly, in impatience or something else, Dante isn’t sure.

Dante leans back, settling his weight on his heels and Nero’s thighs so he can free his hands. He presses them to Nero’s stomach and starts inching his shirt upward again.

And stops short upon seeing what is there.

Nero’s ribs are _littered_ in tiny, horizontal scars. Some are thick and raised with scar tissue, and others are light and almost not there. But the little lines cover his ribs and sides. Dante’s thumb brushes over one of the worse ones, “Nero…”

The boy’s head is already turned away and Dante can see, can physically see, the way his walls come up and he retreats into himself. “It’s nothing.”

“No, baby boy,” Dante whispers, a hand coming up to caress Nero’s cheek, “It’s most certainly not nothing…” He has so many questions. When? When did he start, when was the last time he contributed to the maze of scars? What? What made him start, what made him keep going, what made him stop, if he even had? How? How had he done this to himself, how had he not told anyone, not even Dante? But the one he settles on might be the most important one. “Why?”

Nero’s eyes flash with that defensive anger Dante knows quite well, “Why don’t you try dodging bottles and punches every day and perverts every night? See what kind of things it’ll make you do?”

Dante pulls back as if Nero’s just burned him, “Nero… It’s not- I’m not _criticising_. I _care_ about you. That includes your mental well-being. I didn’t even _know_.”

“Kinda the point…” Nero mutters under his breath.

Dante sighs and pulls himself away from Nero, gets off of him and kneels next to him. Nero props himself up on his elbows and frowns, “What, are you just gonna stop then?”

Another sigh, “No, I’m pausing. Sit up.” Nero looks at him skeptically and a little hurt, but he does as Dante says, slowly. Once he’s sat up, he tugs at his shirt and crosses his arms over his ribs. There are those walls again. Dante crawls over to him and before he can ruin the moment with words, he scoops Nero into a big hug. He hugs him close for a long time before nuzzling behind his ear and whispering, “I am _always_ here for you for _anything_. You don’t have to tell me everything, but I’m here to listen if you want to talk.” He presses little kisses against Nero’s neck then pulls back.

“I have to ask…” He searches Nero’s eyes, trying to see if he’ll avoid the question, or lie outright, “When is the last time you hurt yourself?”

Nero looks down and his arms tighten around himself. He’s guilty. Must have been more recent than he wants to admit. It’s a long time before Nero opens his mouth, “L-last month.”

Dante thinks back and sighs, “The police station.” Nero just nods. Dante wants to cry. He wants to hit himself against the wall over and over for not seeing, for not helping. But that won’t do anything for him now. He just has to be more aware. “I love you, kiddo. I’m not going to get mad at you. Tell me when you feel like that, maybe I can help you.”

He embraces Nero again and sighs against him. This boy has been through so much. Far more than any 18-year-old ever should. Far more than any person at all ever should. The poor kid has seen abuse in many ways from the people that are supposed to love him, felt the need to punish himself for it, been ostracised and bullied from his peers, and lived a loner for most of his childhood. As far as Dante knows, Nero only has two friends that are his age.

Something shifts while they embrace. He’s not sure what exactly it is and he knows it can’t quite be the air. But it feels like it. Something about the lighting feels different, the way the room is cast in darkness save Dante’s bedside lamp. It feels… close. Intimate. Dante’s hands start wandering a bit. Running down Nero’s back, over his neck, though his hair.

Nero’s breathing changes, stops being short and guarded and starts being shallow and heavy. Dante loves how responsive he is. So pliable and eager. It’s almost scary. He’d be so easy to ruin. But Dante doesn’t want that. He wants to build him up, give him the love he deserves and more.

He’s careful, when he transitions from absently wandering hands to purposeful sneaking back under Nero’s shirt. He looks at Nero, hands paused, searching for permission. Nero nods, and Dante continues. He just feels under his shirt for a moment before bringing his hands back and going to undo the buttons. Each one pops carefully, slowly. Dante maintains eye contact with Nero, searching for the slightest hesitation. But there isn’t any, not even the hint of any. He just looks needy and wanting.

The last button pops and Nero’s shirt falls open. This time, Dante isn’t phased by the scars. They hurt to look at, but he’s careful to not spend any extra time on them, no extra attention. They’re a part of Nero, but they don’t define him, and Dante can imagine Nero wouldn’t like this to be about them any more than Dante does. So he doesn’t ignore them, doesn’t avoid them, but he doesn’t dwell. He lets his fingers run over the expanse of Nero’s skin slowly and carefully, memorising the hills and valleys. Dante takes his time, committing each hitch of Nero’s breath to memory. He’s so beautiful.

Nero gasps when Dante’s fingers brush over his nipples. He shudders, almost away, almost like it’s too much. But Nero’s eyes tell him that he’s enjoying it. So Dante does it again, very slowly and very lightly. Nero arches and the tiniest little sound escapes his lips and it’s like some kind of spell. Intoxicating. Dante continues teasing him there for a bit before he pulls his hands back and places them on Nero’s hips.

He kisses him, long and very gentle, then drags his hips down so he’s laying down and Dante has returned to looming over him. Another kiss, much shorter this time, before he trails kisses over Nero’s face, his neck, to his ears, his shoulders. He puts in effort to cover every inch of reachable skin in kisses. Gentle, loving, careful kisses.

When the kisses get lower, Nero’s hands find their way into Dante’s hair and he moans. The fingers in his hair feel good and push him to kiss lower, linger a bit longer. His tongue pokes out and licks a little strip just above his pant line, then he blows gently at the same spot. Nero’s skin erupts in goosepimples and he shudders with a little whine and it’s adorable, it makes Dante smirk.

From this position, Dante can very clearly see the very noticeable bulge forming in Nero’s pants. He’s barely even touched the kid and he’s already this worked up. Not like Dante has any room to talk. Nero’s noises are doing more than enough to him in the same respect. He’s not in any better condition.

Dante’s hands run up Nero’s thighs, just the tops, avoiding where he’s needy for him. When he makes it up to the top of his pants, he teases the skin just above it before reaching for Nero’s belt. He stares up at the boy’s needy expression while he slowly works at the buckle. Nero is absolutely stunning like this. Gorgeous. And Dante gets to see him like this, pink and flushed, needy.

When he gets the belt free, the catch of his pants are soon to follow. But that’s where Dante stops. He kisses his way back up Nero’s body until he captures his lips once again. It’s sensual and Dante pours his love into the gesture. His fingers gently caress Nero’s cheek as he kisses him.

Dante pulls back and leans over Nero, supporting his weight on his elbows. “Are you sure you want me to keep going, Nero? You can say no whenever you want.”

Nero shakes his head, “I’m sure. Please.” The way he sounds. His voice cracks with need and he pleads like Dante is all he’s ever wanted in life. All he’s needed. Finally, Dante gives in. He stops pussy footing around what he’s been dying to do, stops making excuses and just dives in. Every click of the zipper of Nero’s pants reverberates off the walls tenfold. It’s like a ticking bomb, counting down to the moment they both get what they’ve longed for for so long.

Dante pulls Nero’s pants down slowly, with Nero’s help in kicking them off. He pulls off his socks while he’s at it and then just sits back and looks. Looks at the beauty that is Nero. There are a few more scars on his thighs, which doesn’t really surprise Dante, but it makes him a little sad. The kid must have been at that for a long time. But that only brings him pause for a fraction of a second, because, truly, all of Nero is far too distractingly beautiful. And finally, Dante finds it in himself to tell the boy.

“Nero, зайчик. You’re so beautiful.” Nero’s entire body flushes and it just proves Dante’s point. The boy is stunning. Perfect. Pale skin, though marked and flawed, still a testament to his survival. Chest heaving a bit with little panting breaths that are just so cute. Hands that aren’t quite sure what they should do, so they lay limp at his sides. He’s the definition of inexperience, but Dante doesn’t mind. He’ll teach him, Nero will gain confidence. And if past experience is anything to go by, it won’t take him long. “Relax, kiddo. You’re perfect.”

Nero frowns as if to disagree, but then his face relaxes as if he’s decided not to think about it or that disagreeing isn’t worth it. Which it’s not, Dante will remind him of how perfect he is over and over until he repeats it back. Until he believes it himself.

Apparently, Dante takes too long in his visual exploration, because Nero props himself up, then sits up, grabbing at Dante’s clothes. It’s only now that he realises he’s gotten Nero down to his underwear without taking off a single article of his own clothing. How unlike him.

Nero’s already gaining confidence, though. Dante can tell by the way he reaches for Dante’s shirt buttons, albeit with shaky fingers. He grins at the change of pace and leans in to kiss Nero, distracting him for a moment before he remembers that he has a goal.

Dante’s shirt falls away and Nero shrugs his the rest of the way off at the same time. It’s here that Nero pauses, clearly nervous and maybe even intimidated by the next step. So Dante leans in to kiss him again, but this time guides him to lay back into the bed once more. He nuzzles against Nero’s neck then begins kissing a hickey into the skin just under his ear as he works the catch of his belt and his slacks. It distracts Nero from what he was so nervous about and gives Dante incentive with all the cute little noises he manages to pull from the boy underneath him.

Dante has a little trouble kicking his slacks off from around his ankles, and does a bit of master contortionism to get his socks off as well. But eventually, he’s holding himself up over Nero, both of them stripped down to their underwear. And suddenly, it all seems kind of silly to Dante. He smiles, looking at Nero, until the smile widens and evolves into a chuckle and then into a full bodied laugh. Nero gives him the oddest look, like Dante has gone absolutely mad.

“What’s so funny?”

“I just- It-” Dante has difficulty speaking through his laughter. His stomach convulses and he has trouble keeping his weight off of Nero. He takes a couple deep breaths and tries to calm down, “I’ve been craving this for so _long_ and now we’re here and… I don’t know. It’s just funny. I can’t-” He rolls off of Nero and lays next to him, still suffering convulsions and giggle fits.

His head rolls to the side, and he just looks at Nero. His face hurts from smiling. Nero is too perfect and laying here with him. He can’t believe it. He actually can’t believe that this moment is real. His boisterous mood apparently rubs off to some degree on Nero, because, eventually, he’s got a matching wide grin and lets a chuckle bubble up every now and then. And they just stay like this, laying next to each other grinning like loons at one another. Dante’s fingers play with Nero’s between them and otherwise they just exist.

It’s an odd respite to the activities they had been doing just before. But it’s nice. Just quiet existing with one another. Dante would be entirely alright with just staying like this for the rest of the night. Maybe cuddling a little more. They don’t have to do more for him to be happy.

After some time, Nero turns his face up to the ceiling and his smile falls into something more thoughtful. “Hey… Dante?”

“Yeah, kiddo?”

His head rolls back to face Dante, “Can I try something?”

Dante grins and raises an eyebrow, “Like what?”

Nero’s face screws up into a frown, “I- just- Please?”

He seems nervous, but determined. And damn near desperate to do… whatever it is he wants to do. “Yeah, whatever you want, kiddo.”

Nero smiles, whether at the permission given or the nickname, Dante can’t be sure. Then, Nero pushes himself up and sits next to Dante. The elder tries to get up as well, but Nero puts a hand on his chest and shakes his head, “No, stay there.”

“Alright,” Dante says with a sideways grin. He kinda likes the way Nero’s half taken charge. But it really makes him want to take it back. Order Nero around a bit. And he’s noticeably harder now.

Meanwhile, Nero’s started very tentatively pulling Dante’s underwear down. Dante hisses when his erection is freed to the air. It’s not particularly kind, but Dante doesn’t mind. The air feels good and he’s got a feeling that whatever Nero’s going for will feel even better. While he’s waiting for Nero to work up the courage to continue, he puts his arms behind his head and looks at the boy smugly. Dante knows he looks good naked, he has no problem with self image. He looks down his body at Nero, who is staring unabashedly at Dante’s dick like he’s never seen one before.

Oh shit.

“Nero. Have you ever seen someone naked before?”

The boy looks like he’s been startled from intense concentration when he turns toward Dante’s face. And then the blush sets in. He knew it. “Aww, it’s ok, baby. I’ll be gentle,” Dante taunts.

“You won’t be anything if you keep it up,” Nero bites back.

At that, Dante chuckles before holding his hands up in surrender briefly then returning them to behind his head. “Alright, alright. You gonna do somethin’, then?”

He receives another glare for his quip, but Nero moves to position himself so he’s kneeling between Dante’s legs. His face has this determined expression and it’s so endearing, Dante grins down at him, just waiting to see what it is he want to try.

Eventually, Nero reaches out a hand and wraps it gently around Dante’s cock. It’s nothing particularly special, but Dante still purses his lips and hums. Nero’s eyes flick up to look at his face quickly before giving a couple experimental strokes. Dante sighs through his nose, it feels good. A little rough, very much inexperienced, but good.

And then Nero does something entirely unexpected.

Nero’s mouth is warm and wet as it wraps around Dante’s dick. He gasps and his hands fall from behind his head and seek out purchase in Nero’s hair. He might grip a little too tight, and he struggles not to slam up into the boy’s throat, but judging by the way Nero hums around him, he’s not opposed. He doesn’t go deep or fast and his teeth graze every now and then, but none of that makes it any less good. It feels amazing. Dante tries desperately to keep his eyes open, to be able to watch Nero, because he’s so goddamn beautiful like this. But it’s hard. One hand caresses Nero’s cheek gently while the other twists in his hair a bit too harshly.

“Jesus fucki- _christ_ , kid.” It’s soon after this that Nero pulls back and licks his lips. “Where the fuck did you learn to do that?”

Nero shrugs, “Was it good?”

“Was it- _fuck_ , Nero. A little practice and you’ll be the best blowjob I’ve ever had.”

He smirks and Dante has a feeling he’s going to have something bite him in the ass. “Bet you regret blowing me off when I offered.”

Yup. “Christ, Nero, I barely even remember that.” That’s a lie. He’s been thinking about it over and over since then. By the look Nero gives him, he seems to know that. “Get up here,” Dante calls, motioning for Nero to lay over him.

Nero’s weight is reassuring across his body, warm and alive. He can feel his heart beating against his chest and his breathing against his ribs. The closeness is nice. Dante runs his fingers through Nero’s hair, brushing it from his eyes, then pulls him up for a long kiss. He can taste himself mingled with the taste of Nero’s tongue, and it adds a level of eroticism.

While Dante occupies Nero with the kiss, his hands drift down his back and sneak under the hem of his underwear. Nero’s ass is just about as perfect as Dante always imagined. Soft skin, firm, great for squeezing. Dante makes sure to get his fill, making Nero squirm above him and whine into their kiss. He’s so adorable.

Nero pulls back from the kiss and looks down and Dante and he looks fucking _desperate_. It’s one of the hottest things Dante has ever seen. Dante raises a brow in question as he pushes Nero’s underwear further down, down until he can’t reach anymore without moving the boy. Nero picks up the slack and reaches down and wiggles somewhat awkwardly until the garment is gone and he can lay back against Dante, erection pressing against his hip.

It takes some pretty impressive stretching, and a little help from Nero, but Dante manages to get his nightstand drawer open and pull the lube out. He checks in with Nero again, making sure he’s still on board, still wants this. But there isn’t even a hint of hesitation there. He wants this just as much as Dante does.

Dante pops the cap on the bottle and notices something. As he squeezes some of the substance out onto his fingers, he looks at Nero in question, “This looks a lot more empty than I remember.”

Nero looks at him in confusion, “Ok…?” But the blush on his cheeks and the way he avoids eye contact reveals the truth. He did find Dante’s stock, found and used. Not that Dante minds any. In fact, it’s kinda cute, and definitely making Dante’s dick a little harder imagining what he had used the lube for.

He smirks while warming the lube on his fingers, but doesn’t say anything. His dumb grin is surely more than enough to tell Nero he knows his little secret.

Dante’s clean hand runs absently up and down Nero’s spine. Nero keeps making these tiny little sighs that are just far too cute. Dante lets his hand fall down a little lower once so that when his other hand touches him, it’s not as much of a surprise, in addition to being messy and slippery. He starts by just running his finger over the cleft of Nero’s ass, coating lube over the entire area and pulling little gasping sounds from Nero’s mouth while his fingers grip and dig into Dante’s shoulders and his teeth graze and nibble at Dante’s skin. He’ll probably have marks after this. Good.

Very slowly and very gently, Dante starts dipping the very tip of his finger into Nero. He sighs into it, pushing up and back against his finger, trying to get him to go in deeper. And while he wants to go slow and wants to take his time, he can’t deny Nero when he’s being so responsive and so needy. Dante slides his finger down to his second knuckle, withdraws it, then goes in again. He continues this for a while, letting his finger go a little deeper each time. He’s slow and gentle, working Nero open carefully, listening to the way he keens each time his finger enters him.

Finally, the slides in a second finger beside the first. This is when Nero begins to show his true self, rutting between grinding against Dante’s hip and back onto his fingers. He keeps making a steady stream of sounds varying from gasps to outright moans. But Dante knows the real show is yet to come. But he holds off, holds off until he’s managed to slip in a third finger, just to be safe and to make sure Nero really enjoys this.

It takes a bit of searching, it’s been awhile since Dante last fingered a guy, but suddenly, Nero’s whole body goes rigid and his throat opens up to let out one of the loudest moans of pleasure Dante has ever heard. Nails dig hard into his shoulders as he massages that spot inside Nero that drives him mad. Once the moan dies out, Nero is reduced to literal whimpers. Whimpers so intense that actual tears start forming and falling from his eyes.

Dante doesn’t think he’s ever been so aroused.

“Fuck- please- Dan-” He can’t seem to get out more than one syllable at a time and they’re all high pitched whines that barely qualify as words. He’s so _desperate_. Dante doesn’t think he’d ever tire of hearing that barely audible begging like that. But he’s feeling somewhat merciful tonight. So he withdraws his fingers, much to Nero’s protest, and grabs his hips. Moments later, they’ve swapped positions, with Nero spread out beneath Dante and Dante looming over Nero once again. He likes this view.

“Are you ready, baby boy?”

Nero glares but there is absolutely no venom behind it. It actually comes off more across as needy. Dante smirks as Nero finds words to reply, “Hurry, goddamn it.”

And again, Dante can’t find it in himself to deny Nero. Never could, never can. After reaching for a condom, rolling it on and slathering a healthy dose of lube over himself, he hooks Nero’s knees over his elbows and nearly folds him in half, positioning himself so he can easily line himself up with Nero’s entrance. For a moment, he just waits there. Pressed up against Nero, but not entering him. He wants the moment to last forever. This moment of standing on a precipice. About to take the plunge, but not quite over the edge. A transition between whatever they were and whatever they will be.

He commits Nero’s face in this moment to his mind. The way all of his skin is flushed, the way he looks so needy, desperate, wanting. The way his icy blue eyes water with the intensity of his pleasure, even though Dante has yet to enter him. The way his hair splays out messily and sticks to his face in a few places from the sweat starting to coat his face. It all culminates to make such a beautiful image. Dante never wants to forget.

And then he moves.

He rocks forward achingly slowly, watching himself disappear but continually flicking his eyes up to watch Nero’s face. It takes him a long time before he’s seated fully inside Nero, and once he is, he just stops. Stays there for a moment and lets Nero adjust to the feeling of being filled. He leans down and peppers kisses all over Nero’s face, mindless and pathless, just kisses anywhere his mouth lands.

Nero’s whines mount in volume and he starts trying to rock against Dante. It’s then that Dante pulls back from kissing and starts rolling his hips back slowly, setting a slow, gentle pace.

It’s fucking heaven.

Dante’s had a lot of sex. He has always lived on the more promiscuous side. He likes to have a good time and he’s less than picky about who he goes to bed with. Pretty much if they’re hot and not a complete asshole, he’d get into bed with them. He’s fucked many mouths, cunts, and assholes. But _nothing_ comes close to the way he feels right now, balls deep in Nero. It’s unrealistic to think that Nero is really anything different than anyone else he’s fucked, physically. He’s no tighter or warmer. But he _feels_ so much _better_.

It’s probably got to do with that disgusting fluttery feeling he has in his chest and in his stomach over the kid. Probably something about that whole ‘love’ thing. Probably. Maybe not.

His hips jerk of their own accord, roughly forcing himself into Nero harder than before. And Nero _moans_. He moans like an eager whore and _god_ Dante is a sick old man. It sounds so good. Dante bites his lower lip and tries again, pulling out slowly before slamming back into Nero. Nero’s head rolls back and his mouth falls open, making little half gasps while tears fall from his eyes again. Dante would be worried that Nero wasn’t enjoying himself, if it weren’t for the deep scratches he’s clawing into Dante’s back and the obvious sounds of pleasure.

God, he’s beautiful.

Dante drops his hands from where they have been holding up Nero’s legs. He wants to run his hands up Nero’s front, over his chest, caress his face. He needs to feel him in every way possible, inside and out. He continues his rhythm while running his hands over Nero anywhere he can reach. They run up Nero’s stomach, up his chest, up the sides of his neck.

And that’s when Nero grabs his wrists and stops him.

Dante immediately freezes. He freezes everything, worried Nero doesn’t like something. But Nero just looks up at him with this _look_. And Dante can’t exactly describe it. The only words that come to mind are carnal and sensual. And, oddly enough, the look is right at home on Nero’s features. He makes a noise somewhere between a plea and a growl and holds Dante’s hands to his throat.

Oh.

_Oh_.

_Shiiiit_.

He nearly chokes with the realisation of what it is that Nero wants him to do. Maybe he does, he isn’t even sure anymore. All he knows is that his fingers tighten around Nero’s neck until the boy’s eyes roll back in his skull in ecstasy then restarts his previous pace, a little harder and a little faster than before.

Dante loses himself. He loses himself in the way Nero sounds, whiney and pleading. In the way he looks with tears running and his skin flushed red. In the way he feels hot and tight around him and squirming under him. In the way he _smells_ , like sex and sweat and _Nero_.

He thinks he might start a mantra of Nero’s name at some point. A mantra of “Nero, fuck, shit, god,” any word that comes to mind. Nothing sensible, just a string of senseless words, half of which are in Russian. But they’re drowned out by the volume of Nero’s sounds. His ‘please’s and ‘fuck’s and, Dante’s favourite, his ‘Dante…’s that always trail off just so. It all drives him mad. Builds him up until he’s desperately trying to hold on. He doesn’t want to let go, doesn’t want this to end.

His hands squeeze a bit tighter as a fucking freight train hits him as he comes. He slams himself into Nero and spasms a bit. It’s such a surprise to him, he wasn’t even able to warn Nero. He should be embarrassed that he couldn’t get Nero to come first, but he can’t find it in himself to care. He’s more concerned with getting him there, letting him find the same ecstasy he just has. Dante rearranges his hands so one is around Nero’s neck so the other is free to move down to stroke his cock. He still shallowly rocks his hips into Nero, despite the sensitivity. It doesn’t take long before Nero is crying out as he finishes, hard and messy.

Dante works him through it, stroking him gently and only stopping after he’s twitching from over stimulation. He takes his hand off his neck, pulls out, and leans over to kiss Nero long and gentle, so careful. He wants to keep kissing him, to just hold him and fall asleep, but there’s cleanup to do first.

So he pulls back, gets up and peels the soiled condom off of himself to toss into the nearby wastebin. A few tissues take care of the mess Nero made on himself and Dante. Once all that is done, Dante climbs back into bed and pulls Nero against him. He kisses his forehead and pets his hair, “You were so good, baby boy. So good for me.” He starts peppering his face with kisses again, quick and gentle, “I love you so much, зайчик. I love you, I love you, I love you…” he just keeps repeating it over and over in whispers almost inaudible.

Nero clings to Dante through it all. He keeps trying to hide his face, but Dante keeps trying to kiss it. While Dante speaks, Nero mutters responses he can’t make out, but hopes are something along the lines of ‘me too.’

Their legs tangle together and Dante just holds Nero close. He doesn’t know what this means, in the grand scheme of things. But he doesn’t care all that much. It doesn’t matter really. He has Nero now. Here in his bed, in his life. Safe. Warm. Happy. That’s what matters.

They fall asleep like that. Naked, sated, and tangled together.


	10. New Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summer time, and the living's easy

Morning comes slowly. It’s summer break and Dante intends to take advantage, meaning sleeping in as long as humanly possible. At some point, his mind groggily comes into awareness for a brief time. He registers a warm body in his bed and he smiles, cuddling closer to it. Moments later, he’s asleep again.

It’s some time in the early afternoon that Dante finally wakes up. Wakes up to the feeling of fingers tracing the skin of his chest. His eyes crack open slowly and look down to a mop of messy white and pale fingers gently moving over his skin. He hums then leans his head down to kiss the top of Nero’s head.

He’s so. Goddamn. Happy.

“You’re awake.”

Nero’s voice is quiet and groggy, lazy. Dante nuzzles the top of his head with his nose, breathing in deep. He smells good. Smells like him. Even better. “You been awake long?”

He shakes his head, continuing the tracing patterns with his fingertips. He doesn’t say anything more, but something feels a little off. Nero’s head stays down and his fingers keep moving, but Dante just has this sense that something isn’t right with him.

Dante’s hand comes up to pet at Nero’s hair, silently for a moment. Then, after some time of Nero still feeling like something is out of place to Dante, he speaks. “Hey, kiddo, everything alright?”

Nero just hums in response, and it’s supposed to come off as yeah fine, shut up. But it really sounds more like something is really not ok. But before Dante can address it, Nero pulls back from him and mutters something about a shower. Dante wants to grab him, wants to pull him back and figure out what it is that is getting at him, but he lets him go. Better to give him a little space to sort out his own head before he tries to pick his brain.

Nero slips into the hall bathroom, even though he’s used Dante’s before and Dante could care less which he uses. Just another alarm bell that something is very much off with Nero. He rolls out of bed while he waits, finding a pair of boxers to throw on and gathering up the clothing that was thrown around the previous night. He folds Nero’s up nicely and tosses his own into a pile of laundry to deal with later.

And then he sits.

And thinks about all the ways he’s probably fucked up. Pushed too hard, too fast, too soon. Got into Nero’s head and convinced him that he was his only option, that he didn’t have anywhere else to go. What if that’s what he thinks? What if he’s some Stockholm Syndrome case and Dante didn’t even realise that he has fucked this kid up? He’s taking advantage of this boy who is barely legal and was his _student_ until yesterday.

When Nero comes out of the shower, he quickly ducks toward his room, but Dante stops him, “Hey, Nero? C’mere a sec?”

He’s reluctant, that much is clear. But he does change his path and step into Dante’s room, stopping just inside the doorway. Dante pats at the spot on the bed next to him, expectant. Slowly, Nero approaches and takes the seat.

“Nero, I want you to listen to me very carefully, ok?” He pauses, and when Nero doesn’t respond, “I need you to acknowledge, you’re gonna listen?”

“Yeah…”

“Ok, good. I want you to understand that you are under no obligation to stay here. If you want to leave, you absolutely can. If you have someone else that you’d rather be with, then by all means. I’d understand. You are free to do what you want, I don’t want you to think I’m keeping you here.”

Nero stares at him. Stares for a really long time. So long that it starts to worry Dante. They just watch each other for an indeterminate amount of time. Then, “Do you want me to leave?”

“What? No! Of course I don’t. But I need you to know that if you want to, I’m not going to stop you.”

He hugs himself closer, “Why not?”

It’s so tiny and barely audible. And for a moment, Dante doesn’t understand the question. What does he mean, why not? Because Nero is his own person. Because Dante doesn’t own him and has no right to dictate where he goes. Because Nero can make his own choices about where he lives and who he stays with.

As much as it kills him.

“What do you mean, why not? You are your own person, Nero. I don’t have any right to dictate anything about you.”

Nero’s eyes flash with hurt, “Fine.” He stands and goes to walk out of the room, but Dante stops him, grabs his wrist and keeps him from getting far.

“Hold up there, kiddo. What has got you all weird like this? Did I do something wrong?”

The boy almost snarls at him. “You didn’t do _anything_ ,” he spits.

Dante searches his head and Nero’s eyes for an answer. Something to make sense of what this kid is feeling that’s making him so suddenly hostile. “Then you need to help me out here, help me understand. What’s up with you?”

Nero wrenches his hand from Dante’s grip, but doesn’t go anywhere. He maintains his angry scowl for a few minutes longer and then suddenly he just sags. Like all the fight just slides out of his body. It’s almost a physical thing, almost like a seeping slime crawling out from Nero’s pores.

“I-” he sighs, “What is this? Do you even want me here?”

“Nero, I- _What_?” Dante shakes his head, utterly confused by the question, “Baby boy. Why would you _ever_ think I didn’t want you here? Nero, I _love_ you. I just want what’s best for _you_. Even if that doesn’t include me, but I sure as hell hope it does.”

Finally, Nero returns to Dante, although not in the same way he would have expected. Nero practically collapses where he stands, falls down to his knees and leans into Dante’s legs. He looks exhausted, and Dante wonders how truthful his shake of the head was when Dante asked if he’d been up long. This is the behaviour of a boy that barely slept at all last night.

“Shh, shh. It’s ok, I’ve got you.” He pets Nero’s hair and tries to nudge him enough to slide down to the floor so he can properly hold him.

“I thought- I thought th- that-”

“I know. It’s ok. I’m sorry.”

They stay like that on the floor for some time. Dante just rocks Nero while he pets his hair and peppers him with soft little kisses. And, fortunately, it doesn’t take long before Nero is responding in kind. Innocent cuddling escalates into heated making out, Dante’s hands wandering everywhere. It never escalates beyond some more or less innocent groping. And by the way Nero whines when Dante pulls back, he’s not entirely pleased about that. Ah, what it is to be a horny teenager again.

Dante grins, “I’m starvin’, what do you say we go over to Ken’s for breakfast?”

Nero looks Dante over with a critical eye, “You planning on putting clothes on first?”

“You’re one to talk,” Dante sneers back, looking over Nero in just his jeans. “Plus, I can’t do much when you’re on top of me, now can I?”

At this, Nero leans harder into Dante, making it even more impossible for him to move, “What if I don’t want you to?” He kisses Dante, at which the elder brings his hands up to cup his face to return the kiss.

Quite a bit later, when they pull away from each other, panting slightly, Dante asks, “That mean you don’t want to go get breakfast?”

Nero nuzzles into Dante’s neck and nips at his collarbones, “There’s pizza in the fridge.”

“And when are you planning on letting us get up to go eat it?”

Another nip, and Dante hisses. “Mmm, when I’m done.”

“And when is th-” He’s cut off when Nero starts kissing him again. He’s not sure how long they stay there, caught up in kissing one another again. But eventually, Nero’s stomach protests loudly enough that they pull back. Dante laughs and pokes at Nero’s stomach, teasing him about the sound before they finally get off the floor and make their way to the kitchen.

The whole time they walk, they’re more or less glued together at the hip. It’s a wonder they make it down the hallway at all like that. They never once stop touching one another, even once they’re seated with cold pizza in hand, they’re still pressed up together in some way or another.

Some time later, when Dante is just polishing off the last of his share of the pizza, he glances over at Nero, “Hey, kiddo, you still don’t have a driver’s license, do you?”

Nero looks up at him, confused, “No, why?”

“D’you want to?”

“What?”

Dante nudges Nero, “You’re eighteen. There’s nothing stopping you. I’ll teach you.”

Nero glances suspiciously at Dante, “Why? I’ve got you, don’t I?”

“You won’t in a few months.”

That gets a reaction. Nero’s eyes grow wide and he physically flinches, “What?”

Here is it, the heart of the matter. One of the things that has been hanging heavy in Dante’s chest for a while now, but it’s only really hit him yesterday. Time is not on their side, not as Dante would like, at least. Their days like this are numbered. “You’re gonna be off to college this fall. It’d be nice if you could come back and visit on the weekends every now and then. If you wanted.”

Nero’s mouth opens, then closes again without his saying anything. He repeats this several times, attempting to say something, but clearly not finding the words. Finally, “Dante, that’s _months_ away. And I-”

“Don’t you dare tell me you might not go. You are going. This is your dream and no way in _hell_ will I let you hang that up for any relationship. It’s not that far. Couple hours.”

“I…” Nero sighs, “Fine. Teach me to drive then. Can’t be that hard, if they gave you a license.”

“Hey now,” Dante laughs, “That’s no way to talk to your elder.”

Nero pokes him, “Elder, more like ancient. Sure you don’t need glasses? Maybe you shouldn’t drive after all, might have a heart attack behind the wheel.”

At that, Dante picks up a piece of uneaten crust and throws it at Nero’s face. They get into a shoving match that somehow turns into less shoving and more pulling. And then groping. And eventually, they’re back at making out again. Dante is really sure he’ll never tire of it, tasting Nero like this. He wants to do it over and over, as much as he can. So much that he can memorise his taste, his smell, the feeling of him against him. He needs to stock up, needs to be able to keep these memories while Nero is away at school. Best to start banking the memories now.

They don’t end up doing much of anything for the rest of the day. They just sit around and end up making out a lot. Honestly, it’s a damn near perfect day in Dante’s mind. And at the end of it, Nero’s room isn’t even a thought in either of their minds. They collapse into Dante’s bed together and curl up close, falling asleep to the sound of each other’s breathing and the feeling of a warm body.

It’s the next day that they start having obscene amounts of sex.

It’s mostly Nero’s fault, but it’s not like Dante is complaining. The boy fulfills every fantasy he’s never known he’s had. He’s beautiful and cute and goddamn perfect. And it takes very little time for Dante to discover his leaning toward the masochistic, what with the way he whines like a whore if Dante scratches him or chokes him. And he loves it when Dante calls him baby boy. So he exploits that.

And _god_ is Nero ever perfect. Dante finds himself in a constant state of arousal. And if he’s not, Nero sure knows exactly how to get him there. A little shake of his hips, a none too subtle riding up of his shirt. He’s got all kinds of little tricks that he uses that makes Dante absolutely mad for him in moments.

And he practices his blow jobs.

Dante gets more blow jobs over the course of a few days than he thinks he’s had in his entire life. Nero’s so terribly eager for it. It takes some learning, he’s far from expert initially. But he learns something each time. He never loses his passion for making Dante feel good. In fact, it looks like it grows as he gets better. Especially when Dante grips his hair and loses control enough to start thrusting into his throat. The kid looks fucking wrecked those times.

He’s really good at getting Dante to come. And come hard.

They don’t leave the house for days. The don’t take calls, don’t make them except to have food delivered. They spend those days alone and catching up on months of sexual frustration and barely contained need for each other. There’s barely a moment that passes in which they aren’t naked and tangled up in one another.

A few days after graduation, Dante finally gets fed up with his phone ringing all the time and answers one of Trish’s calls, tangled up with Nero in post orgasmic bliss.

“What?”

He can practically hear her raised eyebrow, “ _If you can manage to be dressed for more than five minutes, Lady and I’ll come over with dinner._ ”

He scoffs, “Who says I’m naked?” Nero giggles against his chest, hand traveling a little too close to his very much naked cock.

“ _There are few reasons for you to dodge my calls. Seeing as I haven’t pissed you off recently, it’s because you’re fucking like rabbits over there._ ”

He hates when she’s right. He doesn’t even bother denying it, even if he hasn’t technically told her about his relationship with Nero. Especially not how it has escalated since graduation. She’s known longer than he has how this was going to end up. “Just shoot a warning text before you get here.”

He hangs up before Trish can respond and tosses his phone aside. “Looks like we’re having company tonight.”

“Mmm, when?”

Dante looks down at Nero, who’s looking up at him, “Later. Tonight. Dinner time.”

Nero smirks, “So plenty of time then.”

“Time for wh-” Dante is cut off when Nero’s mouth is around him again. Dante’s still a bit sensitive from their previous activities, but Nero works him carefully back to hardness.

They almost miss the warning text that the girls are almost there.

\--

It’s unfair how short the summer is. Three short months are not nearly enough time to spend with Nero. To spend sitting around watching TV, watching him draw, eating disgusting quantities of pizza. Sleeping together. And not even always in the sexual sense. But just the innocent sense. Having Nero’s body curled against his chest as he drifts into unconsciousness each night. These are all things Dante will miss when Nero leaves for college. Things that will become much farther and fewer between.

The morning of move in day, Dante doesn’t want to let Nero go, doesn’t want to let him get out of bed. When he squirms, Dante’s arms tighten around him, “No, don’t get up.”

Nero practically melts into him without hesitation. It’s clear he doesn’t want to leave either.

It’s not until the third alarm goes off that Nero finally manages to pull away from Dante’s clutches. He’s quick about taking a shower and getting dressed, while Dante drags his feet, trying to deny that he has to say goodbye to Nero that day. Not that getting ready slower is going to delay it any longer, but it makes him feel like it might.

This sucks.

The car is already mostly packed. They at least thought ahead that much, knowing they’d drag their feet in leaving and wouldn’t have time to pack it today. There are only a few things Nero shoves into his backpack that’s left to go. And then Dante and Nero are standing next to the car with an unspoken reluctance to get in. It’s not even goodbye yet. Dante is going with him to help move him into the dorm at Grand Valley. But that doesn’t change the sinking feeling in his gut that feels like this is an ending. Because it is. It’s the end of their carefree summer of getting to know one another. And now Nero has to go away to college and they have to open this new chapter in their relationship.

Dante is just worried that Nero will find someone better. Someone closer to Nero’s age that is better able to make Nero happy. He’s terrified that Nero will stop coming home to visit and will leave Dante alone. And Dante won’t even be able to say anything about it, because if it makes Nero happy, then he has no choice but to accept it, even if it hurts.

“I’m not leaving, you know. Not for real.”

Dante looks over at Nero, “Hmm?”

“You’re holding on too tight when you’re the one that wanted me to go to school. You have to be scared of something. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be back every weekend I can.”

“I’m not scared,” Dante says, a little too quickly. “What do I have to fear? I’m hot, you can barely keep your hands off of me.”

Nero looks at him with this gaze that is far too knowing. This kid knows him too well, he knows too much. “Whatever you say. Let’s get going.”

The boy starts moving toward the other side of the car to get in, but Dante stops him. He grabs his wrist and turns him back to face him. There’s barely a moment of hesitation before Dante pulls Nero close to him and kisses him deep and passionate. It’s as much of an admission to the accusation as Nero will get, and also a kind of goodbye.

Finally, they pull back from one another, staring into each other’s eyes with that same silent reluctance. Then, Nero finally pulls completely away and continues to the other side of the car. Dante gets in the driver’s side and, once buckled, immediately reaches over for Nero’s hand, threading their fingers together and squeezing gently.

They’re going to be alright.

“I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it.
> 
> It has been an absolute delight to bring this story to the fandom. I've loved reading the feedback I've gotten in comments and on twitter. I'm really really glad that the reception for this has been so overwhelmingly positive despite the sensitive and potentially damaging nature of the story. It's very nice to hear such nice things about my writing.
> 
> Anyway, thank you _so_ much for taking this journey with me. I had a blast writing it and I hope everyone had fun reading it. Thanks again and you'll see me around for some more DMC in the future.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/playingchello).


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